


Unseen Errors

by Pixiigh



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Annoying Bosmers, Black Books - Freeform, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dragonborn is an absolute butthole, F/M, I guess this is technically also a boss/employee relationship, Raven Rock (Elder Scrolls), Solstheim (Elder Scrolls), Strangers to Lovers, apocrypha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiigh/pseuds/Pixiigh
Summary: The Dark Brotherhood sends Desil to Solstheim to take a contract for the Dragonborn. But things on the strange island are not always what they seem - nor is the Dragonborn - and Desil must enlist the help of an overly sarcastic Dunmer mercenary to finally unravel the secrets hiding in the ash.
Relationships: Teldryn Sero/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The Falkreath sanctuary was in disarray, the result of an angry Bosmer being asked to do something she didn’t want to. Wisely, Babette and Gabriella busied themselves to be out of her warpath. Festus and Veezara were nowhere to be found. Nazir kept his head down as she stomped past, screaming at Astrid.

“I wouldn’t care if the order came from the Night Mother herself, I am _not_ going to Solstheim!”

Astrid rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Surely, she had come to expect open defiance like this from Desil, would have even been surprised if she had gone along with it with no protests, but it never made it any less annoying when it happened. 

“This isn’t up for debate,” she drawled. “We’ve been contacted by someone _very_ important and have been promised quite the payout for this job. And I decided that you’re the best for the job. So, you’ll go, and if you keep complaining, you’ll be giving up your cut.”

“But-”

Astrid cut her off. “It was never a question, my dear. You’re going.”

Frustrated, Desil threw her hands up and made a grunt of dissatisfaction. “Fine! Fucking fine! I’ll _go_ to the stupid ash wastes just so you can line your pockets off _my_ labour. Fine. I’ll go tomorrow. I hope I bring back enough ash that you all choke on it.”

With that, she stalked away, her dark hair disappearing down the hall to be replaced by the white mane of Arnbjorn, who looked unfazed, used to this kind of outburst.

“That sounded like it went well,” he commented with a toothy grin, the one he mostly saved for Astrid. She couldn’t help but smile back, though it was more of a leer as she pictured the elf leaving and not coming back.

“Of course it did,” she answered. “Take a look at this contract.”

She handed the weathered paper over to her husband, who scanned it quickly.

“Wow,” he said with a whistle. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before ol’ Thaddir Halfhand was giving us contracts. Surprised the first one is in godsdamned Solstheim, of all places. I wonder what poor sucker he needs dead.”

Astrid shrugged, taking the paper back and looking it over again. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it gets Desil out of our hair for… well, a long while.”

“She might die,” Arnbjorn pointed out, but Astrid just waved him off.

“She’ll be fine,” she replied. “She has an annoying habit of surviving things that most wouldn’t. And if she does survive, we get thirty thousand Septims, and by the time she gets back, I’ll have found somewhere else to send her. And if she doesn’t survive… well, it’s no skin off my back.”

*~*

Desil grumbled all the way to Whiterun, where she caught the carriage to Windhelm, and, still grumbling, bribed the captain of the _Northern Maiden_ to take her to Solstheim (because for _some reason_ , he hated it there and didn’t want to go back). To the ire of all the sailors, she grumbled the entire journey there, too, and they were more than happy to see her go.

Astrid’s instructions had been to meet the client in the only inn on Raven Rock, but she didn’t say who the client was. With a smirk, she had said that Desil would be able to pick him out without any trouble.

Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. Astrid had a habit of constantly being cryptic about _everything_ and cackling when no one understood what she was talking about. 

Stretching her legs out on the dock from the ship, she looked toward the settlement stretched out in front of her. It looked… desolate. She wrinkled her nose at the thick air, swirling with ash. She headed further onto the dock, towards the town, coughing heavily as she went.

At first thought, she wasn’t sure if it could really be called a town. More of a settlement. It reminded her a bit of Falkreath. The Brotherhood had sent her all over Skyrim, and even into parts of High Rock and Cyrodiil, but she had never seen anything quite as depressing as Raven Rock. And not to mention the ash currently choking her, making her eyes water.

She pushed on down the road through the middle of the town, taking note of the odd looking buildings and wondering if they were perhaps crafted by some particularly talented architects or if they were actual shellbug skins. She came to a stop before a structure that may have once been a fountain, and looked around for the inn, locating it quickly. 

The Retching Netch. That must be a sight. Gabriella had told her about her pet netch once. They sounded like awful creatures.

The guard posted outside the inn said something to her, but she ignored it. She was on a mission, and she was not to be disturbed while doing it. 

A fire roared in the hearth across from the door and behind a grand staircase when she entered. There were a few patrons sitting around the fire upstairs, but all the noise seemed to be coming from the lower level. She scanned the few upstairs, seeing no one of note (except perhaps the person in what appeared to be chitin plate armour, which was very disgusting to her - how many dead bugs had to be skinned for that?), and went down the stairs after only a few seconds. 

Everyone downstairs was a Dumner, which made her doubt Astrid’s assurances. How was a Dumner supposed to stick out when literally everyone else was a Dunmer? _She_ was the one who stuck out the most. She pursed her lips before taking a seat at the bar.

The friendly looking bartender approached her within seconds. “Welcome to the Retching Netch Corner Club, home of the finest sujamma that will ever grace your lips.”

“What’s sujamma?” she asked, watching him intently as he pulled out a fine looking bottle from under the bar. 

“A bit like wine,” he explained, pulling out a glass to pour out some icy looking liquid. It was a delicate shade of red, almost pink. “But better, because it’s not wine. Here, have a taste.”

Desil was usually not one to take drinks from strangers, and even less to actually drink said drink right in front of them, but she took the drink anyway and allowed herself a sip. And then another. And another. 

“This is delicious,” she admitted as she drained her glass. “You make this?”

“All in house,” the bartender replied with a proud smile.

She set her glass down. “I’m surprised that you don’t have customers lined about out the door. You could sell this!”

“I’ve thought about it, but I think I’d rather keep it small. Make sure the recipe isn’t tainted along the way, y’know?”

She hummed in agreement as he filled her glass once more, peering at her curiously.

“I hope you didn’t come here for the ebony mine,” he said, his tone warning. “Ore’s all dried up, all the miners have left. Nothing here in Raven Rock for a traveller.”

She swallowed the mouthful of sujamma she had sucked back, shaking her head. “Actually, I’m here to meet someone.”

That only served to confuse him more, and he cocked his head slightly to the side as he topped her up, but soon moved on to another customer, a Dunmer in blue, and forgot all about her.

She took the opportunity to scan the room once more, and she was glad she did. In the corner sat a Nord she hadn’t seen the first time she walked around. He most definitely stood out - he was possibly the Nord-iest Nord she had ever seen. Big, burly adventurer type with blonde hair and ruddy cheeks, he wore a curious looking armour she had never seen before. It was brown, looked to be made of steel, and it seemed like it would be much too heavy on someone like her, but hardly looked out of place on him. Strapped to his back was an enormous warhammer, and a steel helmet matching his armour sat on the table beside him.

Bingo.

She grabbed her drink and got off her stool in one fluid motion to approach him. She had to be cautious; she wasn’t wearing her Brotherhood leathers so she had to avoid the illusion of being hired by a Jarl to flush out clients. But she needed this man to somehow know who she was without outright implicating herself, just in case there was a setup on his end.

Luckily for her, he seemed to expect her. He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Astrid never said you’d be an… elf,” he said with a hint of disdain. “She said you were the best.”

“I am the best,” Desil replied, seating herself without invitation. “My name is Desil. Tell me about yourself.”

He leaned in, looked around before answering. “My name is Thaddir Halfhand.”

She was floored. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. She knew the name, but had never actually expected to meet him.

“The Dragonborn?” she hissed. This was… not expected. “Forgive me, Dragonborn, but what the fuck do _you_ need the Dark Brotherhood for? Can’t you, like, Shout people to death?”

“Keep your voice down! Yes, I am the Dragonborn. No, I can’t Shout people to death. And I need your help because I have… other business to attend to. But this can’t really wait.”

She didn’t know what to say. The Dragonborn had an impressive reputation. Alduin the World Eater still lay undefeated, but the man had slain over a hundred dragons and absorbed their souls in front of audiences all over Skyrim. He had been made Thane of all nine holds, had been named Harbinger of the Companions, and was rumoured to be a general in the Stormcloak army already. 

She could tell there was a story here, and she was determined to find out. She normally didn’t care much for the backstory, mostly about the kill, but this one was different. “Okay. Start from the beginning. I’m gonna need some context here.”

“Not much to tell.” He leaned back in his seat a bit, the matters at hand momentarily not completely confidential. “I have a lot on my plate right now, but not enough time to deal with it all. Have you ever heard of someone named Miraak?"

She thought for a moment, the name sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps she had seen it in one of her history books, or heard Festus teaching Babette about it. But she couldn't quite pin it down, so she replied, "no, who is it?"

"I don't know either. Some nutjobs followed me to Iverstead and tried to kill me in his name. I came here to see what I could find, but it seems like it'll be a lot of work that I really don't want to do, so I called in a favour with your leader."

"You want me to kill this… Miraak?" She frowned. "Because you don't want to?"

He made a face, pursing his lips and looking thoughtful. "Okay, maybe it's not because I don't want to, if that's what's bothering you. I just have better things to do."

"Like defeating Alduin?"

"Well… eventually, right? My first priority though is a little more personal."

She gestured for him to continue, and he leaned in once more, expression now smugly familiar. It made her uncomfortable; it felt predatory.

"Can you keep a secret?" She nodded. "Of course you can, you're an assassin. So, I joined the Dawnguard. Then I met this absolute vampire babe, right? In this nasty ancient tomb or whatever. And she wants me to bring her home to her castle. But get this - her dad is a, like, second era vampire lord, and he made _me_ a vampire lord in return!” He smiled, flashing suspiciously pointed teeth. “Isn't that fuckin' sweet?"

Desil recoiled violently at the news. Her chair scraped on the floor under her, but aside from a suspicious glance from the bartender, no one seemed to notice. 

"You could have lead with that!" she whisper screamed at Thaddir once she had regained her composure. He waved her off, as though it was strange to be afraid of vampires and not a completely normal reaction.

"Relax," he said. "I don't like elf blood, you're safe. And get back here, I haven't told you the best part."

"There's more?" Despite the feeling of dreadful disbelief, and against her better judgment, she scooted back against the table and leaned in so he could finish. “By Sithis, what else is there?”

“I’m gonna overthrow the damn bastard, take his castle, and marry the _fuck_ out of his daughter. Then I’ll be, like, King of Vampires.”

Honestly, she should have expected something like that. She had known him barely ten minutes, and already this aspiration fit his character. She eyed him cautiously. 

“But you need Miraak out of the way?” she put in, trying to wrap up the conversation about vampires and bring the topic back to something more relevant. “Sounds straightforward enough.”

To his credit, he showed a flash of concern on his face when he spoke next. “Okay, but here’s the thing. I _did_ try to do a little digging around on this guy, try to see why he would want to disembowel me in front of an entire village. But I found absolutely nothing. No one knows anything, but I get this horrible gut feeling that they all know.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like… okay, I ask people if they know who Miraak is, and they just dance around it,” he explained. He put both hands on the table and held them up, one circling around the other, for a visual representation. “I _know_ they know, but for whatever reason, they won’t tell me shit and just say they have no idea what I’m talking about.” One of his hands now lay on the table, the other in the shape of a mouth, which he flapped open and shut quickly. “But they say it sounds familiar. I can’t get a straight godsdamned answer from these shitty elves on this waste of an island.”

The whole thing stuck her as entirely bizarre. Perhaps Thaddir sounded a bit paranoid, conspiring in his apparent distaste for elves, but he seemed so genuine that she couldn’t help but believe him. Perhaps there was a larger player in this.

“So… no one is helping you?” she asked. “That’s why you contracted the Dark Brotherhood?”

He sighed in annoyance. “Look, I’ve got the Dawnguard up my ass to come back, but obviously I can’t go back to a bunch of vampire hunters, I’ve got Harkon up my ass to find some fuckin’ bow, I still have to figure out how I’m gonna defeat Alduin, I can’t have masked freaks coming after me telling me I’m some fake Dragonborn or whatever bullshit they’re saying. I need to you figure out how to get rid of them and do it for me so I can get that sweet vampire tail. And… save the world.”

She stared at him. His priorities were… strange. She thought about how many people idolized the Dragonborn for being a hero, when really, he just seemed concerned about bedding a vampire. Also, he was a complete ass.

“For all this work, I may have to up the price.” She dearly hoped that Astrid wouldn’t find this out. Perhaps she could take a little off the top of the agreed upon fee without her noticing, as compensation for dealing with the worst person she had ever met. “Usually our contracts don’t have any investigative work to do. We normally just-”

He finished for her. “Go in and kill, yeah, I know. Listen, I’ll pay whatever the fuck you want once the job is done. I just need it done.”

“Well, Thaddir,” she said, standing up and extending a hand for him to shake. “You’ve got a deal.”

He instinctively reached his hand out, but seemed to think better of it and yanked it away. “I don’t shake hands with elves.” He grabbed his helmet, stood up again. “Don’t fuck up.”

At the end of his absolutely inspirational parting, he tipped his head slightly, donned his helmet, and stalked off up the stairs, armour rattling as he did. She watched him go with a frown that did not go unnoticed by the bartender. Who had sidled up unseen to, once again, refill her glass. She jumped.

“Strange fella, that one,” he commented. “Spent all day pokin’ around, looking for something. Though, I don’t remember what it was. Can’t say I’m sad to see him go.”

“Strange is a word for it,” she agreed. “Hey, how much for a room? I might need it for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I'm jumping on the Skyrim train a bit late, but hopefully not to late!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm quite proud of this one, I hope you like it :)
> 
> Find me over on [Tumblr!](https://wonder-tweeks.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Geldis gave Desil a discount on a room after he had her hand out samples of sujamma across the town. She was going to offer to pay more, but quickly reconsidered after realizing that her own sujamma habit would probably bankrupt her. 

While she spent her nights sipping the cool drink, trying to clear her lungs of ash, her days were spent strolling around town and asking everyone she could about Miraak. To her dismay, no one seemed to have any answers for her. 

“The name sounds familiar… sorry, where did you hear it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I swear I know that name, but I’m not sure where from…”

It didn’t take her long to figure out why Thaddir didn’t want to do this himself. She wasn’t getting anywhere, and didn’t even have a sliver of information to go off. 

On her fourth night in Raven Rock, after a day filled with nothing, she went to sleep frustrated and downtrodden. She tossed and turned and had no idea when she fell asleep, but when she woke up, she was not in her bed.

She had a pickaxe in her hand, her feet were partially submerged in water. The ashy air was still as she realized that she was standing in front of a large structure, reaching from the ground into the sky, an ethereal glow surrounding it. Her pickaxe was halfway to it before she lowered her arms, looking around bewildered.

All around her were people from the town, including some of the guards in their bonemold armour. All of them building something. She could see the Raven Rock docks off in the distance, the top of the Ienth Farm visible as well. The sea stretched out just beyond the mysterious structure. 

Someone speaking nearby caught her attention. Then more. They all sounded robotic and seemed to be reciting some kind of poem or something.

“Here do we toil…”

“Far from ourselves…”

“Now through him do we see…”

She was horrified. She dropped the pickaxe, narrowly missing her foot. Her eyes darted around as she backed out of the water, moving quietly so no one would notice. But she didn’t think, even if she had thrown something at them, that any of them would realize that she was leaving. 

Silently, she plodded down the path to the town, away from the strange monument. She had no idea what time it was - it was still dark out, but she could feel that early morning chill that persisted from the water. 

She stumbled a bit on her walk back, still a bit out of sorts, not realizing that she was being watched until a cough came from the shadows, near the dock building. Startled, she squinted through the dark to find the source of the sound. 

The person in the chitin armour from the Retching Netch stood there, leaning against the wood. His arms crossed, one leg up for balance. The scarf around his neck rippled slightly in the wind.

“Outlander,” he greeted, his voice dry and sarcastic, even with just one word. 

Desil didn’t reply right away. “How… what are you doing here?”

“Watching,” he replied simply. “Like I do every night.”

“Why?”

“Every night for months these people have come out here, working away at those things. And none of them seem to know why they’re doing it, and most don’t even realize that they are. They get up out of bed, walk out here in a trance, and just… build. And then they wake up, go home, and go about their days like nothing happened.” He tilted his head. “I’m trying to find answers, just like you.”

She must have looked confused, because she could hear him snicker a little under the helmet, and added, “you’re not exactly… discreet with what you’re doing, outlander.”

She faced him fully now. “How come you’re not out here with them? How come you just watch?”

“I’ve asked myself the same thing every night,” he replied with a shrug. “Whatever forces have a hold on these people just doesn’t seem to affect me the same.”

“How long have I been out here?”

His stance told her that if she could see his face, he might look deep in thought right now. “A few hours.”

“A few -!” She was shocked. When had it happened? How did she get all the way out here without waking up? “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Why would I? This is the first time I’ve seen you out here, I wanted to see what it would do to you.”

She just stared at him. This stranger had just… watched her swing her pickaxe, probably haul bricks or something, and did nothing. How many times did he do this? Did he _actually_ want to find out what was going on? Maybe he was just really, really weird.

When she didn’t say anything, he went on and asked, “how much is he paying you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That idiot Nord,” the stranger said. “How much is he paying you?”

She blanched. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

“Enough of that,” he waved the hand that was crossed on top of his chest. “I know what you’re doing here. He asked damn near everyone in the Netch before finally realizing no one was going to help him.”

“Thaddir?”

“Is that what his name is?” The stranger scoffed. “I never cared to find out. He offered me three hundred Septims to find out about this Miraak. I thought that was rather offensive. Listen, I know he’s probably smartened up enough to open his coin purse a little wider, and I _know_ you’re planning on taking a bit off the top. I’ll ask again. How much is he paying you?”

“I’m not planning anything,” she lied. This stranger was grating on her nerves more and more by the second. How did he know so much? Was she really that easy to read?

“I thought you assassin types were supposed to be more aware of your surroundings.” The sides of his helmet rose a little - he was grinning, and she was suddenly glad she couldn’t see it. “I’m surprised you didn’t see me listening.”

“You… you eavesdropped on my _private_ conversation?!” 

This was entirely new to her. Even before she joined the Dark Brotherhood and learned how to stay in the shadows properly, she prided herself on her stealthiness and awareness. Apparently, though, she had failed to be good at either. 

“Look, outlander, do you want my help or not?” He had seemingly dropped that smooth tone, and now spoke in a more harsh, rough whisper. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t remember you offering any help. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Apologies,” he said in a low voice. “Teldryn Sero, blade for hire. You’ll find no finer swordsman in all of Morrowind.”

Desil was tired of this conversation. It hadn’t really gone anywhere, just proved that this Teldryn Sero in the chitin armour was weird as shit. She positioned herself to keep walking, but hung back for a moment to deny him.

“I don’t need a blade, I need a fucking mystery solver.”

*~*

Three more days in Raven Rock proved to be equally as useless as the last. It wasn’t until the end of her first week there that she found a breakthrough.

She had woken up at the stone again, hammering away at the glowing centre. She always seemed to snap out of her trance before anyone else, and this time, she realized that she was being watched.

A Dunmer wearing enchanted red robes stood near the mouth of the path leading back to Raven Rock, scribbling on a piece of parchment. She recognized the robes - a carefully crafted garment from House Telvanni, no doubt. She had met a Telvanni wizard once, in Valenwood. He was the most impressive mage she had ever seen. Upon remembering the wizard, she also remembered his horrific attitude. Reminded her of Thaddir, actually.

She lowered the pickaxe slowly, but he seemed to be engrossed in his notes and paid her no attention. When she approached and cleared her throat (twice, as he didn’t hear the first time) he jumped, startled, but recovered quickly.

“You there,” he said, as though he was shouting at her from a much further distance. “You don’t seem to be quite the same state as the others. Very interesting. May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I… I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “Do you know what these people are doing?”

“Building something, clearly.” He looked her up and down and was clearly unimpressed. She felt self conscious in just a slip nightgown, both her arms and legs exposed to the still air. “Yet, they don’t seem to have much say about it. I’m very interested to find out what happens when they finish.”

She looked back at her former companions, watching them toil away without knowing, occasionally muttering that haunting chant they all did. “Have you tried to stop this?”

He went from unimpressed to horrifically offended in a matter of seconds. He clutched a first to the robes on his chest and gasped, almost comically. 

“Certainly not! Doing so would interfere with whatever is going on, and I would be unable to see how it all turns out.”

She frowned. What was _with_ the people here? First Teldryn, now this guy? Was she ever going to find any answers?

“I’m trying to find out what’s going on, too,” she said quickly. “I’ve been asking around for days, but no one seems to know anything. I think this is connected to someone named Miraak.”

“Miraak?” The wizard seemed to think for a moment. “Yes, I’ve heard that too, a few times. But I’m afraid it’s only from these… workers. Interesting. But for now, I think my efforts are best concentrated here, on this stone.” His tone suddenly changed, and he flashed her an almost ominous smile. “Imagine the power of being able to command entire villages to do your bidding. Imagine what I could do with that power."

She didn’t like that.

He looked at her again, either oblivious to or ignoring her clear discomfort in his presence. He looked at the stone, then back to her again. 

"Ah, so you appear to be able to resist the effect by exerting your will. Fascinating!” He paused for a moment to scribble something else down on his parchment. “I would not advise touching the stone again. The effects of repeated contact could be…” He hummed, deep in thought for a split second. “Unless of course you'd like to contribute to my investigation. It could be very enlightening to observe you."

Was this really her only way out? Sure, she could go back to the town, but it seemed like this wizard was on the brink of finding something out. She thought about it for less time than she probably should, and then turned back towards the stone.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked her back as she made her way over. “I didn’t _actually -_ That seems inadvisable!” When she kept walking, he sighed. “Oh well.”

When she reached her place at the stone, bare feet touching cold ground under a few inches of water, she hesitated. She looked back to the wizard, who had approached with her and was standing a few feet away. He nodded, as if to ask her to continue. Unsure, she reached up and touched the stone itself.

Electricity shot through her from her palm down to her toes, and she felt like she was outside her own body. She was fully aware, but didn’t seem in control of herself as she picked her pickaxe back up and went to work on the stone.

She was shocked - she was sure there was no way that she could swing the damn thing on her own accord. She had noodle arms when it came to anything but a bow, this was absolutely bizarre.

She could hear the wizard talking to her from afar. "Fascinating. By touching the stone, you appear to have fallen under whatever influence is affecting the others."

How odd. Perhaps he was right. But how was it that she seemed to be able to control when she was under the influence of the stone? She tried, but she couldn’t snap out of it now. Perhaps it was only when she was asleep. Though the sounds of her pickaxe were loud in her ear, she could still hear the wizard as he flitted about, making notes on his parchment.

"I wonder how long this effect will last. Perhaps it is permanent as with the others." He loomed close to her, and she could see him peering into her face but she could say nothing. "That would be a shame. You were an interesting exception to the otherwise universal phenomenon."

He waved a hand in her face. "Can you hear me? Do you have any free will left, or are you completely under this outside influence like the others?"

Still, she could say nothing. She just kept hammering away with the sharp end of the pickaxe, unable to stop, unable to speak.

"Hmm. It appears that you were not as unusual after all." 

He sniffed, as though he was disappointed by this turn of events, and suddenly, she could no longer see him, but heard his footsteps retreating down the path, crunching in the occasional scathecraw plant lining the path to the town.

She continued to work, her arms moving against her will, her legs moving on their own, as she listened to the inhabitants of Raven Rock recite that eerie mantra over and over again.

“...And when the world shall listen…”

“...And when the world shall see…”

“...And when the world remembers…”

“...That world shall cease to be.”

She was shocked - the words came out of her mouth without her even realizing she was about to say them. They left behind a dreadful feeling that made her heart tingle and her lungs freeze, though she continued her work for what felt like days until the sun finally rose and she was able to control her own body again.

She snuck off quickly before everyone else around her snapped out of it. She felt violated as she headed back on the road to Raven Rock - she tried shaking out her hands to get the sensations of swinging the pickaxe without wanting to out of her system, but it still remained. 

“Hello, Outlander.”

She almost expected him, but he still startled her. 

“What do you want?” she asked. “Were you watching me again?”

“Naturally,” he answered. In any other context, Desil might think Teldryn looked cool leaned up against the dock building the way he was. But her heart was still up in her throat, so he was a rather unwelcome sight. “I saw you had another visitor.”

“Yeah,” she replied, but didn’t stop to talk. To her annoyance, he followed. “Telvanni wizard.”

“Neloth,” he supplied. “I’m actually quite surprised he ventured out of his mushroom to visit the lowly folks of Raven Rock. He doesn’t normally do that, unless he’s looking for volunteers.”

“Volunteers for what?”

Teldryn made a displeased humming noise. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. But despite his… morbidity… Neloth is quite possibly the greatest wizard in Morrowind, perhaps even Tamriel. He might be a good resource for you and your little investigation. I can go with you, if you want.”

“What?” She stopped walking, faced him. It was a bit strange that he would just offer. “Why do you think I would want you to go with me?”

Teldryn scoffed. “I know how you in the Brotherhood operate. While stealth is a good weapon on your side when you need to sneak up on someone, it won’t do you any good against the ash spawn.”

She was about to ask what an ash spawn was, but thought better of it. Perhaps she didn’t want to know. She had so far stayed in the relative safety of Raven Rock, but had heard people talk about what lay beyond the bulwark in the ash desert beyond the town. 

“I can handle myself, you know,” she retorted, though she was starting to doubt it. Back in Skyrim, she would sometimes travel with a mercenary named Janessa, especially while going through the Reach. While her skills with a bow and a dagger in the shadows were unmatched, open combat was just not her thing. 

“No, really, I insist.” He sounded almost… worried? “Solsthiem is not a place to be wandering alone.”

She wondered for the first time what he looked like under the helmet. She realized that she didn’t even know what race he was, though she suspected Dunmer. 

She sighed in defeat. She was _very_ tired, and wanted nothing more than to sink back into the rented bed and sleep, knowing that she wouldn’t be brainwashed during the day (hopefully). 

“Fine. You can come. We can leave tonight, so I don’t have to wake up next to that fucking thing again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to get this second chapter going. My posting schedule is suuuuper not like this normally. 
> 
> Idk how I forgot that Neloth would be in this story, but man. I love him SO much. And I love that he and Teldryn have such unique VA's that no matter the dialogue, I can picture them speaking every time.
> 
> Find me over on [Tumblr!](https://wonder-tweeks.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

Desil met Teldryn on the upper level of the Retching Netch just before the sun began to set. Geldis had given her some food for the journey, and warned her in a very fatherly way to stay away from anything that moved in the dark unless she knew it was Teldryn.

“He’ll keep you safe,” he had told her, jamming her satchel full of baked ash yams and bread. “He knows what he’s doing. But he can’t save you from everything out there. It’s still very dangerous. I dunno what you’re up to, going out there in the middle of the damn night, but I’m glad you’re not going alone.”

“What do you know about him?” she asked, her mouth stained from the single glass of sujamma she chugged merely seconds earlier. “He’s very… mysterious.”

Geldis chuckled. “Teldryn Sero seems rough around the edges, but he’s a good man. Bit of a smart mouth on ‘im, but you learn to get used to it.”

“What… what does he look like?”

“I dunno,” he admitted. Her satchel now full and zipped shut, she slung it over her shoulder and fastened it to the belt of her travelling robes. “Never seen him without a helmet. Lives in that armour. I’m _pretty_ sure he’s a Dunmer, but I dunno where he came from. He’s not from here, I know that much. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

Hm. It had been bothering her that she was about to travel with this man and didn’t even know what his face looked like. She could remember every face she had ever seen, and it just made her feel more secure to see what everyone looked like.

She would just have to trust him this time.

He was waiting for her by the door when she came up the stairs. He was standing there with his arms crossed, as usual, but unfolded them when he saw her and opened the door for her. 

She could see the sun setting in the distance, hanging low over Skyrim. She felt a pang of sadness as she looked - she did miss it. She missed the sanctuary. Nazir’s cooking, the smells from Babette’s alchemy creations, even the sounds of Arnbjorn working metal. She missed all of it. Raven Rock had none of those things, even if it _did_ have sujamma.

She shook her head clear it and waited for him, her shoes crunching in the sandy ash underneath. Wordlessly, he began walking in the direction of the great gates that marked the edge of town. 

“How far is it… wait, where are we going?”

“Tel Mithryn,” he replied. “Apologies, sera, I probably should have told you our destination before assuming you wanted to go there.”

She couldn’t deny that. “I was so tired this morning that I didn’t even realize. What’s Tel Mithryn?”

They were coming up to the docks now, the sun further down in the sky and the sky beginning to turn black. There was a slight chill in the air, so she drew her cloak around herself tighter, wishing she was smart enough to have warmed her Brotherhood leathers before putting them on.

“The Telvanni wizards are able to grow entire cities out of mushroom seeds,” he explained. “Neloth doesn’t quite have an entire city over there, but it’s still quite impressive. You’ll never see anything quite like it.”

Of all the strange things she had seen in Solstheim, giant mushroom cities were probably not even close to the strangest, but the thought intrigued her. The tree cities in Valenwood were beautiful and impressive, but giant mushroom houses sounded… dumpy. 

They climbed the ash covered steps that would take them out of town, silence falling between them as they walked. Desil was beginning to wonder why she had agreed to take a stranger with her to help her with a contract when a firebolt whizzed past her head and made impact on the flame-proof stones of the Bulwark.

“What was that?” she asked, immediately dropping her stance in an effort to stay undetected. “Where did it come from?”

Teldryn, completely unconcerned about the fire, stood on his toes to try to see further into the distance. He pointed to something she couldn’t see. “By the old ash farm,” he said. “I think that’s… by Azura, Veleth is being attacked!”

Without explaining who Veleth was, or where the farm was even located, he ran full tilt down the path leading out of Raven Rock. Desil hesitated for a moment, but followed. 

“It’s ash spawn,” Teldryn shouted back to her, conjuring a flame atronach and hurling a firebolt of his own at three figures in the distance. 

Desil ran faster, spotting a way up the wall beside them to give her a vantage point on the creatures. She could make out someone in bonemold armour, a guard perhaps, being ambushed by the creatures. They were strange looking, almost humanoid, but clearly made of the ash that surrounded them. The structure behind them was presumably the farm, an empty, burned out shell of a building filled to the brim with ash.

“I don’t think your fire is doing anything,” she said to Teldryn, who was clearly running out his magicka in a desperate attempt to burn the things. “They have fire too!”

And they did, evidently, as half the ash yam stems sticking up from the ground near the creatures were burning. They also had massive, angry red glowing swords that swung at Veleth aggressively, and he barely got out of the way each time.

She found her opening and leapt up onto the fortified embankment, able to see everything from a higher point and avoid the swords. The fireballs she could withstand - thanks to her trusty enchanted ring - but those swords could cut through her no problem, she was sure. She drew her bow, aimed carefully, and shot an arrow right into the eye of one of the ash spawn, downing it instantly. She didn’t have much time to relish in her skill, for the remaining two ash spawn began to hone in on her, launching fire at her. 

“Shit!” she cried, ducking as a blast nearly hit her square in the face. “How did they find me so fast?”

“They have eyes, sera,” Teldryn called back, drawing a glass sword and crouching, stalking one the of the creatures, trying to catch it off guard without alerting the other one. Veleth was able to get up from his awkward position on the ground, able to access his own weapon, and pulled an enormous war axe from his back. 

The ash spawn continued ignoring the two Dunmer behind them and their attempts at attacking Desil, with her only narrowly avoiding the flame each time. Her arms of her cloak, despite the enchantment on her ring, were singed, the fabric smoking and the burnt smell starting to make her head hurt. 

She watched as Teldryn and Veleth brought their weapons down on the creatures at the same time, the two ash spawn falling at the same time and landing in a heap. After a few seconds, the forms of their bodies dissolved, almost disappearing completely, as the ash holding them together melted into the ground. After scanning the vicinity to make sure nothing else was coming after them, Desil replaced her bow on the holster and jumped down from the ledge. 

Veleth approached her, Teldryn tailing behind. “Thanks,” he said, to both of them. “I wasn’t sure if I would make it out alive. Can’t say the same for my man here.”

He waved his hand in the direction of the sunken deck, and Desil grimaced at the body of another guard. His sword was several feet away from him, and though still on, his helmet was askew, revealing a deep cut. 

She couldn’t deny it - dead bodies freaked her out. It seemed a poor quality of a Dark Brotherhood assassin, but she never stuck around long enough to take in her handiwork. She could never understand Gabriella and Festus, who seemed to take a sick sort of pleasure in seeing their victims lifeless eyes.

“What were those ash spawn doing attacking you?” she asked. “All the way out here?”

“They need to be stopped, they’re a danger to Raven Rock. I was going to search for clues that might lead me to wherever they're coming from. I know it isn't the best place to start, but we know they've been coming from this direction."

She traded a look with Teldryn, who shrugged. “You go back to Raven Rock,” she told Veleth. “We’re headed to Tel Mithryn right now, but if we find anything, we’ll let you know.”

“Much obliged, outlander.” Desil had been called outlander since the moment she stepped foot on Solstheim, but the way Veleth said it, there was no nastiness behind it that she had become accustomed to. More of an observation, he was genuine. “I’ll be waiting at the Bulwark. In the meantime, I won’t be sending any more men out here. Thank you again.”

She watched him head back to Raven Rock, having apparently forgotten the guard that lay collecting ash beside them. She turned away and squared her shoulders, eager to forget this little ordeal.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Teldryn asked. She glanced his way; he was kneeling on the ground, elbow deep in one of the piles that had been an ash spawn previously. “These ash piles won’t be here forever. Get digging.”

She did not dig, but watched him do it until he pulled out a note. He unfurled the ancient looking parchment, and made a noise of contemptment. “This is… odd.”

“What is it?”

He turned the parchment over so she could see. The note was written in slanted script, addressed to the Raven Rock Stronghold, which was the first strange thing she noticed.

“General Falx Carius?” she read. “Where do I know that name?”

Teldryn folded the parchment back up, tucking it away into his pocket. “An Imperial captain assigned to Solsthiem by the Empire back when it was a territory of Skyrim. This is an old note, someone has been holding onto this since… well, since the island belonged to Skyrim, anyway. This is very strange.”

A chill from the water rattled Desil’s bones. “Let’s keep going,” she said, shivering. “I don’t like this place.”

She began to trot off, not knowing if she was going the right way or not. Teldryn followed eventually.

“You’re heading right for Fort Frostmoth, outlander,” he said. “I think it’s best we avoid that.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t you read the note? That’s where the General is.”

“The ‘General’ has been dead for over two hundred years, Teldryn.” She waved her hand dismissively. “What, are you afraid of some bones? Scared of some corpses?”

He sniffed behind his helmet. “I just think that we would be better served avoiding it, that’s all,” he said dryly. “If you really want to walk into the fort when you’re so sure it’s abandoned, be my guest. But I have a feeling it’s overrun with ash spawn, and I don’t really want to find out what else until I have a better idea.”

Desil bit the inside of her cheek. She wondered how many times she had wandered off into danger like this without thinking. She always seemed to be barely surviving situations that she probably could have avoided by just using her brain for three seconds.

Perhaps he was right. 

Their new path took them further away from the shoreline, closer to the centre of the island. Her boots crunched on endless vines of trama root and the remains of long-dead ash hoppers. The only other sounds were netches crying in the distance and the faint sounds of someone mining ore. 

As it got darker around them, they stumbled upon a burnt out looking house. Teldryn grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

“Get down,” he ordered. She crouched, but looked back at him, ready to tell him off. He put a finger to the spot she assumed his mouth was under the helmet to stop her. “Reavers.”

“What’s a reaver?”

“Bandits.” He lifted himself up slightly, trying to see. “Two of them. We should proceed with caution.”

It wasn’t Desil that alerted the reavers to their presence, but an attacking spriggan. It hit her with a searing flame and she was knocked off balance and grunted loudly, loudly enough for them to notice.

“Oh, well, what do we have here?” one of the reavers called, clearly not seeing the spriggan. “Your amour will look good on me, outlander!”

She went to reach for her bow as Teldryn sent a fireball at the reaver, hitting him square in the chest and knocking the wind out of him, but not killing him. Both the spriggan and the reavers began advancing. She began to panic. The spriggan didn’t look like a normal one, and it seemed like fire wasn’t doing anything to hurt it. 

Another conjured flame atronach whizzed by her, heading for the reavers while Teldryn rounded on the spriggan, sword drawn and snarling. She watched him bring it down on the creature, but it seemed to just make it angrier. 

With the atronach making short work of the reavers, she scrambled upward to draw her bow, aiming for the spriggan. She nocked an arrow, aimed, fired, and a combination of her shot and another blow from Teldryn’s sword finally ripped through the thing, and the spriggan went down with an other-worldly shriek. 

Teldryn turned to her, sheathing his weapon and dusting himself off. “Good shot, outlander. I despise those damn spriggans. What about the reavers?”

“Your atronach got them,” she replied, pointing to their bodies. The atronach remained there for a split second, then burst into flames back to Oblivion, almost as if it had been waiting for Teldryn to see its handiwork. “There’s a cellar door, right there. We should check it out.”

He sighed. “If… that’s what you want to do.”

She indeed did. If it was one thing she had learned about abandoned burnt out houses occupied by bandits, it was that they were usually sitting on some kind of treasure. Or, at the very least, somewhere they could come back to at some point. Either way, she saw it as a win-win. 

The cellar door creaked slightly as they descended into the basement, the air around them sour with the stench of something going bad, both silent as could be in case there was anyone dwelling downstairs. And there was - two reavers in clearly stolen, mismatched armour sat around a table. Desil peered around the corner to see them reading off bits of yellowed parchment next to a roaring hearth in an otherwise relatively dilapidated basement with overturned furniture and clothes strewn about.

“Listen to this one,” the one in the bonemold armour said with a guffaw. “‘My nights have been impossible to bear without you.’”

The one in the mix of chitin and leather armour laughed obnoxiously as well, reading from his own piece of paper. “‘I beg of you; Please depart that blasted isle and depart for Solitude at once!’”

“No more!” the first one said through laughs, clapping a hand to the table a few times. “What a fool!”

“Do you think he’s the one left in the tunnel?”

“Who cares? Nords all look the same to me.”

Desil frowned and turned her face to Teldryn. “Did they kill someone?” she asked quietly, shielding her mouth on the side facing the reavers to keep the sound in. “That’s horrible!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be an assassin?” he asked back, equally quiet. “You have a strange moral compass for someone who guts people for a living.”

“Well, yeah, but they were reading love letters! They killed someone looking for their lover! That’s awful, I’ve never done that.”

The slight movement of his head indicated that he was about to answer, but the scraping of a chair stopped him.

“Wait… did you hear that?” Desil chanced a peek back out and saw that the first reaver was standing up, alert. “Sounds like those ash spawn are back.”

The other one shrugged. “Well, at least if that other Nord returns, they’ll take care of them.”

The reaver who stood up chuckled and sat back down, apparently satisfied, and grabbed another piece of parchment and began to read the love letter aloud once again. Teldryn grabbed Desil’s shoulder to get her attention.

“We should go,” he told her. “If you want to make it to Tel Mithryn in one piece, anyway.”

She hesitated, but ultimately, conceded that he was right once again and grumbled quietly as they climbed back up the ladder and out the hatch.

She let him take the lead this time, just in case, and scanned the area furiously for any other spriggans. She was able to relax when she realized that they were alone.

“It’s really sad, you know,” she said, falling into step beside him after a few moments. “Having someone kill your lover and take over your house. And then read the love letters you got out for amusement. I just… that sounds awful, you know?”

Teldryn didn’t reply. She wondered what he was thinking. 

Unable to bear the stuffy silence that settled between them, she asked, “have you ever been in love?”

He didn’t stop walking, but his pace slowed as he turned his head to her. “That’s an awfully personal question for someone you just met.”

“I mean… I guess.” Used to the confines of the Falkreath Sanctuary, where everyone knew everyone’s business, she didn’t quite see his point. “ _I’ve_ never been in love. My parents tried to arrange a marriage for me in Valenwood, though, to someone I never met. That’s actually part of the reason I left and came to Skyrim.”

“What was the other part?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question, you know. That’s not fair.”

Teldryn sighed. “I was. Once. But when you’re as old as I am, things like that stop mattering, really.”

“How old are you?” she squinted at him, as though his helmet would give something away. 

“You’re very invasive, outlander.”

“I just like to know things.” Desil looked ahead, and even in the dark, she could make out the faint outline of what seemed to be a giant mushroom protruding into the sky. “And you’re the one that brought age into it in the first place. Hey, is that Tel Mithryn?”

“Yes, it is,” he replied. “We should be there soon. It’s not usually quite so… lit up, though.”

She looked in the direction of the tower again. It seemed to be surrounded in some sort of ethereal glow, the source of which came from just off to the north of the mushroom. 

“Fuck,” she swore. “I think that’s another weird tower shrine thing. It looks just like the light from Raven Rock. Geldis told me they were called All Maker Stones, do you think this one has people brainwashed too? Or do you think this one is okay and just _looks_ creepy?”

Teldryn hummed in thought. “Perhaps. But given the proximity to Tel Mithryn and Neloth, I can’t say for sure.”

“Maybe that’s why he was looking at the one in Raven Rock? Because this one is normal?”

“Perhaps,” he said again. “We’ll find out soon - look, the path has started up again. We’re almost there.”

And it did. Desil hadn’t noticed that her feet were no longer crunching on ash anymore, but on smooth, if a little run down, cobblestone similar to the path in Raven Rock where there wasn’t any before. It was a relief, for she had a solid layer of ash in the bottom of one of her boots.

They followed the path until they came to a stream running down into the ocean surrounding the island. A haunting cry echoed throughout the night. Desil spotted an enormous bug-like creature tethered to a rock and had to stifle a scream.

“What is that thing?”

Teldryn looked and laughed. “It’s a Silt Strider. They used to be used for transportation in Vvardenfell, but likely not since the Red Mountain erupted.”

“Is it… dangerous?” she asked, not settled by his demeanour. 

“Not at all.” He laughed again. “They’re just loud. This one looks like it hasn’t moved in ages, though. Maybe it’s sick.” 

“Looking like that, it might be better off dead…” she grumbled, hopping over the stream and back onto the path on the other side. 

She could see all of Tel Mithryn now, as she climbed up the crest of the hill the path took her up. There were a few smaller mushroom towers, but the one in the middle was by far the biggest, and must have been the one she saw from afar. She searched for the strange stone and felt her heart sink as she realized that this one was just like the one in Raven Rock - surrounded by brainwashed Dunmer working on some kind of structure. 

She swore at the sight of it, causing Teldryn to look as well. 

“This can’t be good,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“And the biggest understatement of the era goes to…” she muttered. “I wonder what this means.”

“Whatever it is, we should try to get inside.”

She stared up at the sky. “Won’t Neloth be asleep? Should we maybe wait until morning?”

“And have you wake up at that stone this time?” He shook his head. “Not a chance. Besides, Neloth never sleeps. Says that his magicka is honed so minutely that he can close his eyes for ten seconds and feel a full night sleep.”

As they neared Tel Mithryn, Desil wondered what the _hell_ she had gotten herself into this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little longer than the other two, and I forsee them just getting longer. There is just SO MUCH going on in Solsthiem! So many tangents I can go on! I've been trying to be more detailed in my writing, as I have a habit of, like, just not developing my characters properly and just throwing random traits at them. So I'm working on it. 
> 
> Also, please let me know if me using "hell" feels too out of place - I'm like 90% sure Neloth said it at some point in Morrowind, so I assumed it was okay to use. It's really hard to avoid it sometimes lol. It sounds weird when I say "what in Oblivion" instead, but I'll change it if it affects the immersion too much!
> 
> Find me over on [Tumblr!](https://wonder-tweeks.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't recall inviting you into my tower. I do hope you make this worth my while."

Desil and Teldryn had entered the tallest tower, finding it unlocked. After figuring out how to use the enchanted landing pad to get up, the place seemed empty, though it was buzzing with magical energy loud enough that Desil’s ears popped. After another moment or two poking around, Neloth appeared out of nowhere and startled them both. Desil had been holding a soul gem, which flew from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Neloth sniffed. “You’re lucky that didn’t break. I only have so many filled soul gems, you know. I am not above taking yours as a replacement.”

She bit back a retort. “Where is everyone?” she asked instead. They had noticed how suspiciously empty the grounds seemed when they arrived. Teldryn had assumed that they would see at least one person, but they saw no one.

“They are off working at their pillar,” Neloth replied. “Happens every night.”

“Just like in Raven Rock?”

“Indeed.” The wizard clasped his hands together and regarded the two intruders with disdain. “Now. What do you want?”

Desil took a breath. “Actually, I have questions about those stones. And Miraak.”

Neloth held up a finger to stop her. “Ah, yes, it is you. I’m not surprised that you haven’t been able to uncover anything more, actually, I expected it. So, I did all your work for you. And I found this.”

He rooted through the bookshelf behind him to reveal a very old leather bound book. The title was worn off, and the pages seemed to be sticking out at random, as if they had gotten wet several times. 

“This is a book called  _ the Guardian and the Traitor. _ It does not name who either is, but I  _ think _ that your Miraak might be the traitor.”

She held out her hand to take it, but he made no move to give it to her. Instead, he scoffed at her outstretched hand and held the book away, pulling it to his shoulder. 

“I am not in a position to just  _ give _ these things away,” he snapped. “You know, the fact that you would just expect it in the first place speaks volume of your character. I need you to do something for me.”

Ignoring the small chuckles coming from Teldryn, who had promptly made himself at home and sat comfortably back in a chair near one of the tables covered in potions and soul gems, she sighed. 

“What do you need me to do?”

Neloth set the book down, out of her reach. “I’m running low on heart stones. I need you to get me some.”

“What’s a heart stone?” she asked. “And how many do you need?”

“They are said to be pieces of Red Mountain that scattered across the land when it erupted. I’ve been conducting experiments on spriggans on the usage of the stones. I haven’t found much, but I think I just don’t have the right subjects. I  _ think _ they should be able to replace an actual, organic heart. Get me… hm, say, five. Quickly now, I am not a patient man.”

Before she could ask any questions, he turned around and disappeared within a room nestled into the side of the structure. She turned to Teldryn, a dumbstruck look on her face. 

“Where do I find heart stones?” she asked. “I don’t even know what they look like!”

Teldryn sighed and got up off the chair, his knees and armour cracking as he did so. “Follow me, I suppose. I know where to find some.”

*~*

Heart stones (from literally ten feet away from the main tower) placed in Neloth’s hand in exchange for the book, Desil laid it out on the table delicately, opening it wide and setting the ends down flat so both she and Teldryn could see it. 

“‘ **One of the more intriguing legends found on the island of Solstheim is the story of a mythical figure whose name is long forgotten, but whom time remembers as ‘the Traitor** ’,’” Desil read aloud, unsure if the goggles on Teldryn’s helmet would allow him to see the delicate print on the book. “‘ **Certain that this myth is rooted in history I set out to learn what I could and perhaps piece together a presumptive account of the events that gave rise to the legend. The tale is remembered best by the shamans of the Skaal, that unique tribe of Nords whose culture evolved along an entirely divergent path than that of their brethren in Skyrim** .’”

She stopped for a moment, was about to ask a question, but Teldryn seemed to be able to read her mind. “The Skaal live in a small village further north of the island. Unlike any Nords I’ve ever met. They don’t follow the Imperial pantheon, or the divines.”

“Who do they worship?”

“The All-Maker.”

She didn’t know who the All-Maker was, nor how it was different than, say, Lorkan or Sithis, but she didn’t ask any more questions. She was confused enough by Sithis, despite being a follower herself, and didn’t want to make it worse by introducing something else. She continued reading. She did wonder, though, if the All-Maker stones were connected somehow. 

“ **‘I spoke at length to the shaman of Skaal Village, a wise and hospitable man named Breigr Winter-Moon. He described an age long ago when dragons ruled over the whole world and were worshipped as gods by men. Presiding over this cult of dragon-worshippers were the Dragon Priests, powerful mages who could speak the dragon language and call upon the power of the thu'um, or Voice.** ’”

“Dragonborns,” Teldryn said quietly. “Like your friend.”

Desil stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at him. “He’s not my friend. And, if I’m being honest right now, he never will be because all of this shit he’s making me do.”

“You could have said no, you know.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “And pass up the swathes of money he promised my boss? I’d be better off pleading to the Night Mother for my own death, at that rate.”

He shrugged in defeat. But she was serious. She had no idea what Astrid would do if Desil didn’t take such a lucrative contract. She had only seen Astrid angry a handful of times, and the woman was  _ scary. _

“‘ **According to the legend, one such Dragon Priest was seduced by a dark spirit named Herma-Mora, an unmistakable analogue for the Daedric prince Hermaeus Mora. Lured by promises of power, this treacherous priest secretly plotted against his dragon master. The Traitor's plot was discovered by one of his contemporaries, another Dragon Priest whom legend named The Guardian. The two fought a mighty battle that lasted for days, each hurling terrible arcane energies and thu'um shouts at the other. So great and terrible were the forces unleashed in this contest that Solstheim was torn apart from the mainland of Skyrim. Here, the myth clearly descends into the realm of pure fantasy** .’”

She stopped reading and frowned. “Why would Neloth give us this book if it’s just a fairy tale?”

“Even the most fantastical fairy tales are rooted in truth.”

Neloth had crept over, unnoticed by either Desil or Teldryn, and was standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed, staring down at them with a look of disapproval that Desil had come to realize was just his regular face.

“What do you mean?” Teldryn asked. Neloth sniffed that pretentious sniff again, evidently all too glad to have an excuse to show someone up.

“You can take books at face value, seeing that it is a fantasy, or you can expend the tiny amount of brainpower you have left to delve into it,” he said. “You should at least finish reading it before you dismiss it so easily.”

Desil made a face again, but picked up where she left off.

“‘ **The Guardian, whom the legend presents as a paragon of loyalty and nobility, finally defeats the despicable Traitor, who seems to represent all that is corrupt and evil in men. Their epic duel is clearly representative of a greater struggle between good and evil. Perhaps it is this timeless quality that has kept the tale alive for so long. Unlike many similar myths, the tale of the Guardian and the Traitor does not feature a suitably heroic ending. Herma-Mora snatches the Traitor away just as the Guardian is about to strike the killing blow** .’ 

‘ **The dragons appoint the Guardian ruler of Solstheim, but not before he is compelled to swear an oath of vigilance to watch for the Traitor's return. His reign is, by all accounts, a time of peace and prosperity for the people of the island, and he is remembered as a wise and just leader. No further mention is made of the Traitor, but neither is he thought to be dead. The legend ends on a cautionary note that the people of Solstheim, the heirs of the Guardian, must remain wary, lest the dark influence of Herma-Mora, or even the Traitor himself, return someday** .’”

There was more left to read, but she ignored it and looked at Neloth. 

“Is Miraak the traitor?” she asked. “He was a Dragon Priest?”

Neloth seemed almost impressed. “Well, I guess that one was relatively easy. I gave you the book when you asked about Miraak, it’s not that hard to make the connection. But, yes, I believe Miraak was the traitor, and clearly, he is not dead.”

“What about the guardian?”

“That one, I do not know. There is very little left of the ancient Dragon Priests, so I suspect that we may never know.” Neloth raised an eyebrow. “But more importantly, what do you know of Hermaeus Mora?”

Desil blanched. “I… not much.”

“That’s not a surprise.” He picked up the book and shut it, turning it over in his hands. “Few have tangled with him and lived to tell the tale. I doubt he would be kind to the likes of you.”

He was really grating on her nerves, and she was about to tell him so, but Teldryn stopped her.

“Are you saying that if we find old Herma-Mora that we find Miraak?” he asked. Neloth turned to look at him now, and Desil found minute comfort in the fact that Teldryn didn’t seem to be getting special treatment by the look on Neloth’s face. 

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Desil had to wonder what Teldryn’s face looking like in this moment, because the sigh he let out at the prospect of finding a daedra did not sound good. She too felt a sense of foreboding at the implications Neloth was creating. She wondered where the daedra lived, anyway. She had run into Sanguine in disguise in Solitude once, and then had met him in full form, but that was the extent of her daedric experience. She wasn’t sure if she was keen to explore that any further.

But Neloth paid them no mind, and bustled away into a side room. Desil thought he was just leaving, but he came back with an enormous black book that was entirely too large for him to be carrying. Immediately, the room was filled with a suffocating energy that just felt wrong. She couldn’t explain it. She let out an involuntary hiss when the book started emitting a faint, black, evil looking smoke from between its pages.

“What is that?” Teldryn asked, though it sounded like he knew what was coming. 

“An artefact of Apocrypha. If I’m not mistaken, and I have not been mistaken in… well, at least five hundred years, I would say, this is what you need to find Miraak.”

There was a lot for Desil to unpack in that. She wasn’t quite as shocked as she probably would be otherwise at the mention of Neloth’s age, her mind wandering with all the magic he must be using to prolong his life, but the fact that an actual daedric artefact lay on the table in front of her was concerning.

“How?” she asked, not quite sure she wanted to know the answer. “You you… what, get eaten? By the book?”

Neloth scoffed. “No, you fool. It doesn’t  _ eat _ you. It  _ envelops _ you, and pulls you into the realm of forbidden knowledge.”

“Envelops you how?”

“How should I know?” Neloth had raised his voice, clearly tiring of all the questions. “I’ve never been stupid enough to read these things, you think I have a death wish?”

Desil had to wonder how no one had tried to kill this man yet. Over five hundred years and no one even tried? She could hardly believe it.

Neloth was still talking. “Though, I don’t believe this is the right one. There are many other books like this, and while this one will take you to Apocrypha, it won’t take you to the  _ correct _ part.”

Maybe she would do it. He had an assistant skulking around here somewhere, she could easily perform the Black Sacrament on Neloth. Maybe Gabriella would come out, or Babette. The image of the small girl dancing around with this insufferable old Mer with her fangs bared and poison in hand almost made Desil smile. Almost. But Neloth was  _ still  _ talking. 

“...doubt you have the capabilities to survive there, anyway, but if you must… I have tracked the location of the Book you need to take you to Miraak.”

“Tell me where it is,” Desil said resolutely. She wanted this encounter over. When Neloth looked like he was about to ask for something, she cut him off. “I got your stupid heart stones. Tell me where the book is.”

He frowned. “It’s… it’s in the depths of that temple they’re building in the middle of the island.”

“Temple?”

“Yes, that  _ is  _ what I said. The one where they recite that… mantra all day and all night.”

She was immediately upset that he had seemingly been withholding this bit of information the entire time, but she held her tongue. She wanted to leave the tower as soon as she could, and arguing with him just seemed like it would take hours.

“Okay. Thank you.” she reached over and quickly, without giving him a chance to react, snatched the heavy Black Book out of his hands. “This is mine now. Thanks! Bye!”

Nimbly, she rose from her seat and bolted to the enchanted pad that brought her to the door, Teldryn not far behind. Satisfied that Neloth had not followed them out of the tower, they trotted down the path that led away from Tel Mithryn.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, stealing from a Telvanni,” Teldryn said as he held open her satchel for her to stash the Book. “That probably wasn’t very wise.”

She snorted. “We’re about to tangle with a Daedric Prince and some… undead first era Dragon Priest. You  _ really _ think I’m afraid of that decrepit old elf? Not a chance. Besides, I get the feeling that he’s setting us up to just go find that other Book for him. This one's just for insurance. So we don’t get fucked over.”

Teldryn laughed. Even behind a helmet, Desil found that she enjoyed the sound of his laugh. It was genuine, if only slightly mocking. Companionable, like they were old friends.

“I like you, Outlander. I think this might actually be worth my fee, this little adventure of ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so maybe I lied about the chapters being longer. But there's only so much Neloth I can write before I can't do it anymore. Like it's a lot of fun but it's hard to be such an asshole all the time hahaha. Anyway, this whole chapter was improvised in like, maybe two hours? I hope it makes sense! Just trying to slow it down a little so I don't miss any info!!!


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t take long to find the Temple Neloth was talking about.

About an hour after they passed the Stone at Tel Mithryn, the air around them became suffocating, the dark sky even darker. Desil felt… a presence around her that she couldn’t explain, and she had looked to Teldryn for guidance, but he seemed to be hesitating as well.

“I think we’re here,” he said ominously. For the hundredth time that night, she found herself wishing she could see his face. She wondered if he felt as nervous as she did.

A bit further up the ashen hill revealed a path, leading to an enormous structure in the distance. It split from the ground and cut through the sky, lighting up the area around it with what looked to be like permanent magelights, and just looking at it felt wrong somehow. The now familiar sounds of pickaxes on some kind of rock echoed through the night. It sent a shiver down her spine.

She slowed down a little, and Teldryn got a few feet ahead before he realized. He turned to her, and she imagined a blank face with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed behind the helmet.

“Is everything alright, sera?” he asked, and she felt touched as she _almost_ detected a hint of concern behind the dry tone. “Might want to watch where you stop around here. Never know what might… jump out.”

The thought had, of course, occurred to her, but she ignored it. One thing at a time.

“I just… do you feel that?” she asked, grasping the empty air around her. “It feels… evil. Or something. I dunno. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

She hesitated. “I guess we keep going.” Though she didn’t seem sure. But what else was there for her to do? She had a job, and even if she didn’t, she realized she was in too deep now to just forget about the whole thing.

Her resistance didn’t seem to bother him. He held out an arm, almost as though he was waiting for her to take it, but before she could even make a move to do so, he instead gestured towards the structure. “I’m right behind you.”

She stood there for another moment, considering, before squaring her shoulders and marching past him, filled with a false confidence summoned from a split second vision of his helmet getting knocked off in a fight and her finally getting to see his face.

Following the path a little longer revealed the expansive structure they had been following. It was situated in a crater, with walls built up around it and people working on it the whole way around. Mostly Dunmer, but a group of Nords in heavy coats were chipping away in the middle.

“Skaal,” Teldryn said, coming up closely on Desil’s side. “A long way from home.”

“Weren’t they the ones that knew the story of Hermaeus Mora and Miraak?” Desil asked quietly, gazing at one of them as he worked away without noticing her. “Who wrote that book that Neloth showed us?”

“Yes. If they’re affected, the influence of whatever is behind this is likely much greater than anyone expected. Even Neloth.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. She wandered closer to the Skaal closest to her, Teldryn not far behind. The Nord didn’t even acknowledge her.

“Here in his shrine…” the Nord recited. Desil recoiled slightly. “...that they have forgotten.”

She took a step back, directly into Teldryn who quickly wrapped his fingers around her arms as she leaned her back into his armour, as though he was holding her back from running away from him. He seemed to be thinking the same thing as she was - if she got too close, would she be sucked back in like she was before? Doomed to work on whatever this structure was?

“...here do we toil…”

“What should we do?” she hissed, turning her head slightly so he could hear her better. “They’re all like this. It’s just like the stones! What is this place?”

“This must be a temple to Herma-Mora,” he replied, and she could feel his head turning as he looked around. “Or… maybe Miraak. I’m not sure. Either way, it would be unwise to linger.”

She agreed. Without shaking herself from his hold, feeling safer this way, she turned her body in time to see someone flitting around, seemingly unaffected by whatever curse held this place. She pointed her elbow in the direction of the person, and the two of them watched a blond Nord in armour as opposed to furs walk around frantically, shaking anyone she came into contact with.

"You must fight against what is controlling you! We must leave this place!” she said loudly, gripping the shoulders of a woman with a pickaxe. “Ysra, can you hear me? You must leave this place!"

“She’s not affected,” Desil pointed out. “We should try to talk to her.”

Quietly, they approached as the woman continued to try to get the attention of those around her. She looked up to see them, and frowned.

“You there,” she said, her tone sharp. “What brings you to this place? Why are you here?”

Desil pointed to herself. “My name is Desil. This is Teldryn. We’re here to figure out what’s going on in Raven Rock - at night, all the people do the same thing. Who are you?”

The woman narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, but still answered. “I am Frea of the Skaal. I am here to either free my people, or avenge them.”

“Save them from what?” Something about Frea’s tone, and the people slaving away around them, unnerved Desil. 

"I am unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people of Solstheim. It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very land itself. My father Storn, the shaman, says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible."

“It sounds like this Miraak is causing trouble for both of us,” Desil said, keeping her tone light. “He also tried to have a… friend of mine killed.”

This seemed to alarm the Skaal. "Then you and I both have reason to see what lies beneath us.” Frea looked Desil and Teldryn up and down, as though she were appraising them. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded resolutely, gesturing behind her. “Let us go. There is nothing more I can do here. The Tree Stone and my friends are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below."

As they spoke, a group of hooded figures with spiky bone masks appeared, pointing over at them. Teldryn reacted first, practically throwing Desil behind him and quickly pulling out his sword. Frea’s reflexes were almost as fast, pulling out two war axes from her back. 

“Deceiver!” one of the robed figures cried, pointing a finger at Desil. “You shall not stand in the way of the true Dragonborn's return! He comes soon, and we shall offer him your heart!”

Desil was bewildered as she drew her bow and aimed it between Teldryn and Frea. It met its mark in the chest of the one that yelled at her, as he slumped over with her arrow coming from his chest. 

“Tell me what’s going on,” she said loudly, aiming at the next one. “Or you’re next.”

“It matters not, outlander!” rasped the harsh voice of a Dunmer behind the mask. He took a step forward, and Desil trained her arrow on him, but he didn’t flinch. “When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!”

Desil had a sarcastic reply sitting on her tongue, but she was knocked back by a shock spell that sent her bow flying in the opposite direction. Frea and Teldryn charged forward just as she crashed to the ground. The shock spell made her skin crawl, almost as though it was moving inside her body. She didn’t see what happened next, but heard the grunts and the cries of a short battle, and soon the air was filled with the smell of blood and burnt flesh.

In an instant, Teldryn was at her side, offering his arm for her to hoist herself up. He handed over her bow, as well, once she was back on two feet. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. “That was a nasty hit.”

She brushed herself off, reholstering her bow comfortably. “I’m fine. Thank you. Who were those people?”

Frea scanned the area once more before she replaced her own weapon. “Followers of Miraak’s cult, we have been seeing them everywhere,” she said, gesturing for Desil and Teldryn to follow her. “We cannot waste any more time. We must go.”

Stepping over the bodies of the cultists, burned and flayed open on the ground, they followed the path they had come from down a ramp to a door. Frea looked back briefly before trudging forward, fearlessly, opening the door and holding it open for Teldryn and Desil to duck into. 

The door opened into a hallway with chambers off to the sides. The walls around them were old, inscribed with what looked like an ancient language, and Desil couldn’t resist running her hand over them as she walked. She peeked her head into the first room, which opened into a great roaring hearth on the floor and a cage dangling over it, a skeleton long singed inside.

“Charming,” she said, pointing it out to Teldryn. “This Miraak sure knows how to make his temple look inviting.”

Teldryn chuckled darkly at the sight of the skeleton. “Poor bastard.”

Frea was not as amused. She was standing just in front of the room with her arms crossed, bottom lip curling up.

“We should not delay,” she said. “We should check these rooms for supplies before heading further into the temple. We must be careful in these ruins. Traps can be anywhere, and there will likely be many. Miraak was trying to take power here, and protect himself in the process.”

“Buzzkill,” Teldryn whispered quietly into Desil’s ear. She snickered, earning another nasty look from Frea. She cleared her throat in an attempt to recover.

“What do you know about Miraak?” she asked with a cough as Teldryn elbowed her.

The Skaal sighed. “His story is as old as Solsthiem itself. They say he sought to claim the land for himself, and the dragons destroyed him for it.”

Desil considered this, but didn’t ask further questions. This seemed to correspond with what Neloth had unearthed, save for the involvement of Hermeaus Mora. The chambers around her were unsettling enough, though, so she left that part alone.

The three of them snooped around in the chambers, grabbing a few healing and magicka potions laying about. Desil asked Teldryn who would leave such things laying around, but he just preached about the longevity of alchemical reagents and insisted that they were fine. Even if they had been left there for centuries. She decided to save those ones for him, should he need them.

They regrouped and ventured further into the temple, down a small passage where Frea pointed out two pressure plates on the floor that contained a drop ceiling. Tiptoeing past the plates was a set of stairs, and a metal gate blocking the passage. The pull handle was, conveniently, right beside the gate, and once pulled, it revealed a large, cavernous room laden with more cages with skeletons and a tall podium with a chair set atop it that seemed inaccessible. The railing directly in front of them revealed that they were on a sort of balcony, with stairs directly across the way, leading down into a dark pit that Desil was not looking forward to exploring. 

They crept around a little longer, finding more potions on rotting bookcases to pilfer. Frea led them over to the head of the stairs, but froze just before, holding an arm out. Desil and Teldryn both walked into her, neither of them paying much attention.

With a finger pressed to her lips, she pointed at two sarcophagi lining the walls. They were still, unmoving, but if it was one thing Desil knew about this land and any sort of burial crypt, it was that their dead never stayed that way. 

“What should we do?” Frea asked quietly. “I fear for what may be below us. I would like to avoid a fight with draugr if we can, to not draw attention to ourselves if something is down there.”

Desil held up a hand, charging her magicka. “I’ve got this.”

She wasn’t particularly gifted with magic, but Gabriella had taught her enough to get by. Though she could never hope to rely on her skill with magic, this was the perfect situation for her to use what she did know.

Fire runes were simple and didn’t drain her like most other magic, so placing one at the foot of each coffin felt like nothing. She was confident that if the draugr did wake up, they would be able to get by silently enough without being noticed. 

And she was right - they were halfway down the stairs before she could hear the telltale snarl of a reanimated draugr catching fire. Depending on the draugr, the flames might be little more than an annoyance, but at least they got away undetected. The creatures above them skittered around without even thinking to come down the stairs after them.

The room around them at the bottom of the stairs was quiet and dark, nothing more than a chamber into another room. Desil peeked into the room and saw that there was another corridor leading away, but in that room were two more of the cultists, who were taken care of quickly and easily.

As they made their way down a seemingly never ending chain of corridors and chambers, dispatching anything they came across and looting the place dry as they went, Desil began to get annoyed. They kept coming upon large doors that seemed to lead somewhere promising, but never getting anywhere. 

Frea seemed to feel the same way. "How much deeper can this be? I have been told that Miraak's power was great, but to have built so large a temple… It cannot be much farther now. I feel it in my bones."

Desil watched as Teldryn wrench his sword from the back of a cultist, inspecting it briefly and then wiping it off on the brown robes of one he had killed before. 

“I hope you’re right,” he said. “This place is disgusting.”

The three of them followed the path before them, down a slope and into a small room. Immediately, Desil felt the temperature drop as it got darker the further they went. When the path flattened out, it was almost completely pitch black around them, except for a strange glowing blue light off to the side. As she got closer to the light, it turned gold, orange, yellow. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, but any reply from her companions was drowned out by a loud chanting noise, getting louder and louder as she approached the area the glowing thing was. She put her arm out to find where she was, and quickly she hit the wall. She squawked in surprise as the chanting reached a peak, her body tingling, knocking her over. 

She felt warm all over, but at the same time, felt like her soul itself was lifting out of her body, just connected enough that she could tell where it was. Her head flooded with something akin to thoughts, memories that she wasn’t sure were even hers. Nothing was clear in her mind for that moment, and nothing really made sense.

She didn’t even have time to recover as the chanting got quieter and the room began to come into focus again, for there were more draugr busting out of their resting places on the wall opposite. Some came out already dead (more dead? She wasn’t sure) but some were very much alive, and angry.

Feeling weak from whatever that light did to her, the fight was harder than expected. She could hardly find the strength to draw her bow, so she settled for taunting the draugr with swipes with her dagger, leading them to Teldryn and Frea, who finished them off. 

When all the draugr lay at their feet, Frea looked up at Desil, panting heavily, with a look of confusion.

“What happened when we came in here?” she asked. “I heard something… and then I felt something… but I do not know what.”

“I don’t know either,” Desil answered, rummaging around in her satchel for a stamina potion. She found one, uncapped and gulped down half of it in one go, then offered the rest to Teldryn. He drank his half just as quickly. “It took the energy right out of me, though. Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.”

She looked back at the wall, to the spot where the light was coming from when they had entered, but now there was nothing. Just some strange markings on an otherwise unremarkable stone wall.

Frea looked like she wanted to stay and investigate, but seemed to remember why they had come in here. “Let us move on. Perhaps we will find answers through here.”

One of the coffins on the wall was actually a hidden door, and they squeezed through it single file. As she turned to make sure nothing was behind them, Desil noticed the dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling. A shiver ran down her spine as she wondered how they hadn’t noticed that there before. She wondered if it had anything to do with the strange things she and Frea had felt. 

Then came the obvious question of how in Oblivion a dragon got so far underground, and then strung up like some kind of meat hanging to cure, but she preferred not to think about that. Whatever kind of brute strength or magic that could do something like that didn’t really strike her fancy as something she wanted to come across. 

They came upon a long deserted dining room in the next chamber, several skeletons occupying the chairs around the grand table, still set for a meal. Some plates even had food on them still, and to her surprise, it didn’t look _that_ bad. As she poked around, she realized Teldryn was looking at her. He didn’t look away when she stared right back.

How she wished she could just see his face…

She wondered what he thought about when he looked at her. Perhaps she reminded him of someone he once knew? She knew that if she asked, she would just get some sarcastic quip in return and not ever really find out why he kept staring at her. 

Or, well, she assumed he was staring at her. She couldn’t see his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at her at all, and she was overthinking it.

But why did it matter so much to her if he _was_ , in fact, staring at her. It didn’t bother her, but she kept thinking about it regardless, despite not knowing why she was hung up about it in the first place.

Did _he_ know that she was staring at him now, too? Did he think _she_ was the one staring, and had no idea why she would do that?

The sounds of Frea approaching again snapped them both out of their staring contest. She had a disappointed look on her face.

“This seems to be a dead end,” she said. “Impossible! There must be something more. Look around, I will let you know if I see anything over here, in this dining area.”

Desil and Teldryn went in the opposite direction, heading through a kitchen area and taking anything of value until they came upon a corridor, almost hidden by an alchemy table, and found a lever. Desil didn’t even think twice before she pulled it. Teldryn clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Doing that is going to get you killed, you know,” he said dryly. “You didn’t even look around first to see if there were traps. Could have been poison darts in the ceiling for all you knew.”

She shrugged. “If that’s how I die, then that’s how I die.”

But it wasn’t a trap, as Frea yelled out, “I knew it! A secret passage just opened up in the dining area. This must be it. Let us move quickly.”

Desil grinned cheekily at Teldryn as she hurried over to the dining area. Sure enough, Frea was standing in the middle of an opening that wasn’t there before, and the three of them went through it together.

Another tunnel led to a circle shaped room, and a long wooden staircase. The decor was strange, the walls adorned with disgusting looking busts that Desil didn’t recognize. They burst out of the wall, looking almost human, but not quite. She tried to ignore how unsettling they made her feel. 

They continued on until they reached what appeared to be a dead end, until she found another lever. Yet again, she didn’t hesitate to pull this one and it opened the wall before them into another staircase, spiralling downwards. She stuck her tongue out at Teldryn before he could say anything.

“It is eerily quiet,” Frea remarked, her voice low. “I do not suspect that will be the case the further we go. Be on your guard.”

The stairs gave way to a wooden door, which opened to another chamber, guarded by both traps and more draugr. This time, the draugr were actually quite difficult to defeat, but Desil found success leading them into the traps. One thing she liked about draugr, if she _really_ had to pick something, was how astoundingly stupid they were and how unaware of their surroundings they often seemed.

Teldryn found a gleaming ebony sword on one of the corpses, holding it out to glint in the firelight. Desil whistled. She had never seen such a beautiful weapon before, and she typically didn’t find anything other than bows particularly impressive. He holstered it on the opposite side of his glass sword. 

Continuing on, they eventually came through a tunnel to another circular room, but this time, there was something there. Sitting upon the pedestal, in the dimly lit room, was the very item they came for.

“The Black Book!” Desil exclaimed, nudging Teldryn. “By Sithis, I was starting to think Neloth was lying to us and that it wasn’t actually here.”

They crowded around it. Frea made an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat. When Desil looked over quizzically, she replied, “this… book… seems wrong. Like it’s here, but not.”

“This is what we came for,” Desil said resolutely. “I’m going to read it.”

She had half expected her companions to tell her not to, but Frea looked like she was about to be sick, and Teldryn merely shrugged. 

“Something to lord over Neloth, if nothing else,” he said simply. She grabbed the ends of it and hoisted it up - with some difficulty - cracking it open to a random page.

Instantly, slimy looking tendrils erupted from the book and wrapped their way around her. She felt them on her, but not physically - almost like the touch of a ghost. There, but not there. The room began to shake, or perhaps it was just her, and she could feel herself fading into the pages.

“I can’t believe she did that on purpose.” She could hear Teldryn’s voice, a hundred years away. “That can’t be good for her.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t see. It could have been hours that passed, perhaps years, or maybe simply seconds. When she woke again, she had barely a second to register what had happened when she heard a voice. 

“The time comes soon when… what?”

A shock spell sent her flying backwards, onto her back. It hurt. _Why_ did everyone insist on using shock spells? They were the worst!

An impossibly tall figure approached her, clad in long robes adorned with golden accents and a golden mask. She could tell she was outside somewhere, perhaps, but everything was wrong. The sky was green, streaked with strange looking lightning, perhaps, and the buildings all looked like they were made from gnarled, wet wood. The ground beneath her was stone, but past it she could tell that they were supposed to be on water, but the water was sludgy and evil looking. The air felt stale, heavy, and smelled like copper, like she had stuffed a Septim directly up her nose. The figure was flanked by creatures that looked like the status she had seen earlier.

“Who are you to dare set foot here?” the person asked. His voice was strangely familiar. She couldn’t think of where she had heard it from, though, which was never a good sign. 

She coughed in pain. “The… Dragonborn sent me…” It hurt to even talk.

He laughed, a cruel sound that chilled her to her core. "You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield! _Mul... Qah Div_! This realm is beyond you. You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish building my temple, and I can return home." He looked to the creatures, waving his hand at her. “Send her back where she came from. She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel.”

She had to bite back a gasp. This was Miraak, standing right before her. But there was nothing she could do. The shock spell was holding her down. 

She was terrified.

He stalked away. He had been quite close to her, and walking away revealed a submissive looking dragon behind him. The beast lowered its head for him to climb on, and the creatures sent paralysis spell after spell at her, keeping her where she was.

And then, without even realizing it, it was over.

She opened her eyes and found that she was back in the Temple with Frea and Teldryn. Frea was as white as snow and Teldryn knelt down immediately, pushing a healing potion her way, threading his fingers into hers to make sure she kept her grip on it and wasn’t going to drop it on herself before she had a chance to drink it.

“Well?” he asked as she tipped the potion to her lips and drank greedily. “What did you see?”

She sputtered as the potion went down too fast. “I think I saw Miraak.”

Both Teldryn and Frea made noises of surprise at this. Teldryn’s was more of a “huh?” sort of disbelief, and Frea’s one of horror.

“Did you kill him?”

“I don’t think I can. He’s a Dragonborn alright, and he’s trying to come back. He paralyzed me as soon as I saw him. But Neloth was right. I ended up right in front of him. He was right there, and he walked away.”

Frea looked nervous. “What do we do?”

Desil stored the empty potion container away, gesturing for Teldryn to help her up. He did so, gently, and she brushed herself off, limbs aching and still feeling the ghost of the shock spell coursing through her body. She kept her hand on his arm to keep her steady, not sure if she would be able to stand her own weight for very long.

“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip, thinking carefully. “Is it even possible for a mortal to defeat a Dragonborn? Or do you think Miraak is like Alduin?”

Teldryn hummed. “Your other Dragonborn friend might have more answers about that. Or perhaps Neloth, if you want to pay another visit to Tel Mithryn.”

Asking Neloth anything at this point was the exact last thing Desil wanted to do, even if asking Thaddir for help was the _second_ last thing she wanted to do. She held up her hands, shook her head.

“I’ll write to Thaddir, ask him to come back.” She frowned. “And stop calling him my friend. I fucking hate him. Even more, now, after all that. He thinks he almost died because of this? Please.”

“Do you think he would be willing to come?” She could have punched Teldryn for that sarcastic tone, but she didn’t. Somehow.

“Probably not, but what choice does he have? Now that Miraak knows we know where he is, I think there’s really no other option.”

*~*

_Dragonborn -_

_I hope things are going well with your - what did you call her? Your vampire honey. I hope you’re very happy together. Mostly because I have some bad news, and I’d feel bad if I knew you were already unhappy._

_I have found Miraak, but there’s a problem. Miraak is a Dragonborn, living in the realm of Oblivion inhabited by Hermaeus Mora. It is disgusting and I did not enjoy my time there. He is gathering strength to make some kind of comeback. He has a dragon. He’s also very angry and seemed to think he’s going to, like, take over the world or something. Obviously, you can see where this might be a bad thing for you._

_If you want this job done, I’m going to need your help. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s what has to be done if you want this asshole off your tail. Meet me as soon as you can in Raven Rock, at the Retching Netch. If you need a room, just tell Geldis to put it on my tab. I’m probably not gonna ever pay that thing off, but he doesn’t need to know that._

_\- Desil_

_PS: I found more of those cultists that came after you. And I think I really pissed them off by killing all their buddies while trying to find Miraak in the first place, so they’re probably gonna want to get revenge for all the bodies I left behind. Sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me over on [Tumblr!](https://wonder-tweeks.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

It had been almost a month since Desil sent the courier back to Skyrim to track down the Dragonborn with her letter before she got an answer.

She had been expecting a letter back, perhaps a little nastier than hers. But one never came. Still, she was sure he would show up eventually. Perhaps the Dragonborn could turn into a bat now, as a vampire, and would fly to Raven Rock to meet her.

And perhaps he did. But instead of meeting her in the bar area again of the Retching Netch, she awoke one night in the dead stillness of the early hours to two sets of eyes looming over her.

She barely stifled a shriek and scrambled up in bed, her blankets coming up with her as she tried to get away. Both eyes were ringed red and glowing in the dark. Without thinking, she cast a magelight to illuminate the room, revealing Thaddir and a Nord woman with dark hair and beautiful red robes.

“By the Divines, you scared me!” Desil said, her tone still on edge and not quite able to calm down. “Did you  _ have _ to come in while I was asleep? Whatever happened to casually dropping by in the afternoon?”

Thaddir shrugged, leaving her bedside to sit in a chair next to the nightstand. The woman remained, looking uneasy, eyes constantly darting between Thaddir, Desil, and the door to Desil’s room. “We’re vampires. Can’t exactly come during the day, genius. Sun bad, dark good, all that shit. Anyway, what do you want?”

“Did you just, like, not read my letter? I thought it was pretty clear.”

Thaddir rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got it. And that courier you sent made a nice lunch for me and my wife. But I couldn’t fuckin’ read it. Your writing is too loopy for me. I grew up in Dawnstar, okay, not exactly the type of place to get a good enough education to read that shit. I was able to make out that you needed me to meet you here, but that was it. So, spit it out, elf. I got shit to do.”

Ignoring the quip about eating her courier, Desil pulled out the Black Book she had kept from the Temple from the depths of her pack, hanging from her bed. She set it down, but did not open it. Thaddir stared blankly at it, clearly having no idea what it was, but the woman’s reaction was curious, much like Desil’s own. While the book wasn’t fogging up the room the way it had when she had first seen it, the woman instinctively bared her sharp, pointed teeth at it and backed away, squinting as though it were burning her eyes to simply look at.

“How did you get that?” she asked harshly, holding up a hand to shield herself from it. “You… you shouldn’t have that.”

“This one I stole from your boy Miraak’s Temple, but the other one I have I stole from a Telvanni wizard in a mushroom tower,” Desil explained, but did not make to pull that one out. “I’ve already read this one, so I don’t think it’s going to do anything to you.”

The woman hissed and backed away further. “You READ it? And you’re still here?”

“I mean… yeah?”

“Fascinating…” the woman trailed off, her stance relaxing slightly, moving her hand down to almost hover in the air above the book. Desil let her do whatever it was she was doing. Clearly it was making her feel better in the book’s presence.

Thaddir, however, seemed uncomfortable with the silence. He cleared his throat loudly. 

“Anyone want to explain to me what the fuck that thing is?”

Desil raised an eyebrow. “It’s a book.”

“Okay, yeah, no fucking shit,” Thaddir replied, sounding annoyed. “What’s so special about it? You made my woman uncomfortable, elf. Tell me what this thing is.”

“It’s a Black Book,” Desil explained with a sigh. “An artefact of Hermaeus Mora, a portal to his realm of Oblivion. Reading it transports the reader there.”

“What the fuck is a Her… Her-May… whatever you’re saying. And what do you mean, it  _ transports _ you there? That’s some weird fucking magic shit, and I  _ really _ don’t like magic.” 

“A Daedra,” the woman cut in before Desil could. “The Daedric Prince of knowledge and memory. His realm of Apocrypha is said to hold all the knowledge in existence. I… I had heard about these books, but that was a long time ago. I never would have thought I would see one… What do you plan on doing with the other book?” 

“Not sure. That’s why I needed you to meet me here. Well, not you specifically, mostly Thaddir. How’s the, uh, becoming the vampire king thing going?”

As soon as the words left Desil’s lips, Thaddir was standing, waving his hands frantically and shushing her. Her forehead was beginning to ache at how long she had been holding her eyebrow aloft at this point, confused as to whether he thought he was successfully distracting his companion from her words or not. 

Clearly, he failed, because the other vampire was now looking at him with an identical expression to the assassin. “Vampire King?” she asked, her tone dry and sarcastic, almost disappointed. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“I didn’t mean Vampire King  _ literally,”  _ Thaddir said, having abandoned his efforts at shutting Desil up and now trying to do damage control. “Just like… you know… when I find that bow and I take your dad’s spot. I’ll be kind of like a king.”

“Not really,” the woman shot back. “A castle in disrepair, a bunch of power hungry charlatans just waiting to betray you… and we haven’t even made any progress in finding the bow. I think my father will be able to hold on to power for a long time…”

“Well, what in Oblivion am I supposed to call it?” Thaddir pinched the bridge of his nose. “Babe, what did I say about you stomping all over my hopes and dreams? It’s fucking depressing. Besides, when we take over, we’ll go storm the Blue Palace if that’s what you want. Be the Vampire King from there. That’d be nice, right? I’d also be, like, a war hero. Think about it.”

Desil watched the exchange with interest. Their dynamic was interesting to her; she hardly would have known they were husband and wife if she hadn’t heard Thaddir say it previously. The woman talked to him like she was talking to a child that disappointed her, and while Thaddir seemed desperate for her approval, it didn’t seem like he wanted to actually do anything to earn it, and just expected her to respect him in return for… well, Desil wasn’t sure what the woman was getting out of this, aside from apparently the disapproval of her father.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said eventually, apparently having forgotten until now that Desil was in the room too. “Back to the Black Book.”

Desil shook her head to focus again. She had been so wrapped up in their conversation that she hardly noticed she wasn’t part of it. “Right. So, we found this one in the depths of a Temple being built to Miraak. Which, by the way, was a godsdamned death trap. When I opened it up, I was transported into the book and saw him. He sent me back instead of killing me. But I heard him in the middle of some sort of plan to take over Solstheim, I think he thinks you’re a threat or something.”

“HA!” Thaddir’s laugh was barking, sinister. “As if I care about this miserable shit pit, he can have it.” 

“You’re telling me we came all this way for you to just do  _ nothing _ ?” the woman asked incredulously. 

“Babe, I’m not going to do  _ nothing,” _ he replied, getting up from his chair and brushing himself off. “I’m gonna tell this elf to fuck off, not pay her, find some poor sucker with a juicy neck and have a snack, then get the fuck outta here.”

The woman was seething. “Fine, you can go. But I’m staying to help.”

“What? You can’t be serious.” But when she didn’t say anything to indicate that she was kidding, and instead stood with her arms folded, looking at him with steely eyes, he realized that she was, indeed, serious. “Serana. Seriously? What do you think you’re going to do here?”

“Whatever I can.”

Desil reveled in Thaddir’s expression of anguish, torn between going back to whatever it was he was doing before (which didn’t sound like much, and that made her smug) and staying to help defeat Miraak. The woman, Serana, had a determined look on her face and a defiant air about her as she stared him down.

Desil found that she really liked this Serana.

After a few moments of what seemed to be an epic internal battle, he let out a great sigh of defeat and sat back down. He reminded Desil of a petulant Altmer child she knew once, always used to getting his way and never knowing how to deal with anything else.

“Fine. But I’m knocking ten thousand gold off your price. And  _ you’re _ gonna have to be the one to tell your boss that. That bitch is way scarier than some fuckin’ freak in a book, I’m more worried about her than whatever might be in there.”

*~*

They left at dawn, much to the dismay of Thaddir, who grumbled the whole way to the clearing they charted on Desil’s map. He and Serana had their hoods drawn low, and despite the heat that permeated from the Red Mountain, they both dressed in layers to hide their skin. 

Serana suggested finding a secluded spot where they could open the Book and not be disturbed. The plan was for Desil to open the book, and Thaddir would hold onto her so they would both be transported into Apocrypha together to find Miraak. Serana was adverse to the idea of going in, and Teldryn, who had wandered off with them, also wanted nothing to do with it, but decided he wanted to come as soon as he saw Desil gearing up to leave.

“You’re sure you want to go in there again?” he asked Desil as they walked, back a bit from Serana and Thaddir who had been bickering the whole way up the road, his tone tinged with apprehension. “The last time was a bit… disturbing.”

“Gonna miss me?” she teased with a grin. “Aw, how sweet. But yes, I feel like I have to now, especially since Lord Asshole took his sweet time getting here. I’m worried about how much more power Miraak has now that he’s had time to stew in there.”

“He’s been  _ stewing _ for thousands of years, sera,” he reminded her. “I doubt a month is going to make much of a difference.”

In the month between finding the Black Book and the Dragonborn arriving in the night on Solstheim, she and Teldryn had been spending a lot of time together, mostly as they both lived in the Retching Netch. They spent their days exploring the island (though he wasn’t as interested in it as she was and mostly just wanted to relieve dead Reavers of their gold), with him teaching her the basics of one handed combat to the point where she was comfortable with his old glass sword, and spent their nights drinking sujamma and making fun of Geldis. She wasn’t sure when, but at some point, he stopped charging his mercenary fee and would venture out into the ash wastes with her with no prompting.

And yet, she still hadn’t seen him without his helmet.

She tried surprising him a few times, but he woke up before she did every single time. She was beginning to wonder if he slept with it on. Or, perhaps, maybe he didn’t even have a face. She was stuck on that theory despite her other new friend, Milore, telling her otherwise. She recalled the conversation she had had with her only days before.

“He’s actually very handsome, Des,” Milore had told her as Desil watched her mix a potion with some freshly gathered Netch jelly, though the conversation hadn’t been directed towards anyone in particular before this. “I saw him once while he sparred with the captain outside the Bulwark.”

Desil, perched on the edge of Milore’s alchemy table with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Milore looked up at Desil, coy bemusement on her face. Desil watched the Dunmer’s red eyes wander over to the Retching Netch, where Teldryn stood talking to Fethis about the East Empire pendants they had recently dug up. She frowned.

“What are you trying to do right now?” she asked her friend in a low voice, leaning in so the tips of her toes were all that was holding her aloft on the table. Milore’s eyes snapped back to Desil’s, the defiant smile still playing on her lips.

“I’m not trying to do anything,” she said, overly innocently. “Just… trying to make sure you know the truth. I’ve seen you trying to figure him out. He’s got a tattoo on his face, you know. Apparently it’s from his time in the Morag Tong. Very… mysterious.”

“Teldryn was in the Morag Tong?”

“Oh,  _ now _ I’ve got your attention, you little assassin.” When Desil’s expression turned to one of surprise, Milore just laughed. “Don’t be so surprised, Desil, you wear your Dark Brotherhood leathers everywhere. Someone eventually is going to notice.”

Ashamed that she had now been caught by at least two people in Raven Rock, Desil shook her head. “We’ll talk about that later. What about the Morag Tong?”

“You’d have to ask him.” Milore went back to grinding up her ingredients, clearly intent on keeping up her innocent act. “It was just a rumor I heard, anyway, I don’t actually know if it’s true or not.”

And with nothing left of the topic but that shameless grin on her face, Milore changed the subject and started telling Desil about the medicinal properties of the netch jelly. 

Teldryn himself shook her from her daydream by elbowing her sharply in the ribs and gesturing towards Serana and Thaddir, who were standing on some sort of landing that led down to a Dwemer ruin, looking back at them expectantly and, in Thaddir’s case, impatiently. Desil shuddered.

“Have I ever told you how much the Dwemer creep me out?” she asked Teldryn conversationally, setting down her satchel and pulling out the book. “Even just being up here, above ground, is making me sick to my stomach.”

“Only about a hundred times,” he replied dryly. He watched her closely as she placed the book down on the ground and reoriented her satchel. “I’m going to ask again, are you s-”

Before he could finish, she cut him off. Mostly because she was sure if he asked again, she would chicken out and run away as fast as she could. “Yes, Tel. I am sure. Dragonborn? Are you ready? Once I open this Book, we’ll be pulled in right away.”

Thaddir looked around shiftily, and something about it made Desil feel uneasy, more so than the ruins they stood on. He suddenly started flapping his arms about.

“Uhh… give me a minute, okay?” he said, eyes darting between Desil and Serana as he backed up. “Just gonna do some stretches, get warmed up, all that bullshit.”

It wasn’t quite convincing, but Desil shrugged to allow it. He walked quickly away, far enough out of earshot, and true to his word, began stretching. The motions were exaggerated, almost comical. From beside her, Serana sighed. 

Desil turned to face her. She had one hand tented over her forehead and the other wrapped around her middle as though she were fending off a headache and an upset stomach at the same time. 

“Is everything okay?” Desil asked, feeling concern for the vampire. Even considering her already wintery pale skin, she didn’t look good. It seemed to go beyond simple worry.

Serana sighed again, looking at Desil and Teldryn with tired eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Have you… have you noticed anything… strange about Thaddir?”

Desil and Teldryn looked over at one another and exchanged identical looks of amusement and disbelief, and burst out laughing at the sight of each other’s faces. Surely there was no way Serana was asking this question seriously.

But it dawned on Desil that, perhaps, the Nord was being serious, because when her companions started laughing, she looked hurt and offended. She elbowed Teldryn and they both struggled to contain their giggles. Desil cleared her throat.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” she said thickly. “I’ve met a lot of people, Serana, and Thaddir is  _ definitely _ one of the strangest. I mean… look at him.”

Serana looked like she was sucking on her teeth, her eyes wandering back over to him. He was now running in place, his long legs hitting him in the chest as he huffed and puffed. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, but it took her a few moments to gather what she wanted to say. 

“I just... “ she paused for a second. “Sometimes I wonder if he… if he’s who he says he is.”

Desil raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But before Serana could elaborate, Thaddir returned, shaking his upper body around like one would shake out a piece of laundry to rid it of wrinkles, leaving Desil to wonder what Serana could have possibly been about to say.

“Alright, ready to go?” he asked, not quite sounding convinced that he himself was ready to go, oblivious to what he just interrupted. “Let’s crack this fucker open and jump on in. Come on, elf, let’s get to it.”

Desil scowled at him. “We can’t just  _ jump _ in it,” she told him with disdain. “Once I open it, tentacles will come out and reach for me. You need to grab hold of me once you see them come out. No take backs.”

Thaddir was tapping both hands on either side of his thigh and his foot was wriggling around in the air restlessly. He seemed nervous, more nervous than before he started stretching. Desil looked at Serana, hopeful that perhaps she would be able to explain what she was talking about earlier discreetly, but instead, the vampire’s face was passive, empty of emotion. 

Teldryn clapped a hand to Desil’s shoulder, his fingers spreading out and squeezing it. His hand was warm, and somehow, made her feel less worried about the task ahead of her.

“Be safe, sera,” he said gently. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

She was going to reply, touched at his moment of tenderness, but she couldn’t. Thaddir had let out an impatient noise as Teldryn was speaking, wrenched open the book, and as the now familiar tentacles reached out to find him, he grabbed Desil’s leg and they were pulled into the realm of Apocrypha together.

*~*

They landed in Apocrypha, after what felt like years of falling through nothingness. Thaddir hit the ground first, then Desil practically on top of him, which he  _ really _ didn’t like. He shoved her off of him almost before she even finished landing. 

While she got up with as much grace as she could manage, he stayed on the ground, square on his ass, his legs splayed out around him and his axe laying several feet away from his body.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, looking around with a disgusted look on his face. “Where are we?”

“Apocrypha.” Desil frowned as her eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings. “But… not quite the same as I remember it.”

While most of the scenery looked the same, the layout was different. Instead of the great castle she had seen before, it almost looked like they were standing at the start of a road, covered in old, mouldy pieces of parchment with incomprehensible writing on it. Murky water flooded the room around them, stock still and sickening. The air had the same stale, musky quality to it as it had before, but the sky was different. Pages not unlike those on the floor floated around them, and there were several landmarks this time. 

Namely, the steps ahead of them leading up to a strange looking altar. 

Leaving Thaddir to grumble alone, she climbed the stairs onto the platform, then back down the other set to the altar. There was nothing else really of note around it, except a very solid looking gate. She approached it, held out a hand to it, but it did nothing. 

She returned to the altar. It looked similar to the tentacles that burst from the Black Books, but not quite. The sides looked like they had wings growing from them, and it appeared to be very solid, holding a ball of light in the middle in between some strange tendrils. She looked at it long and hard, tilting her head back and forth as she tried to figure out what it was.

“You just gonna stand there staring, or are you gonna push it?”

She jumped. She hadn’t heard Thaddir get up and join her, but at some point, clearly, he had. He stood opposite her, at the other side of the thing, arms crossed and impatient.

“I don’t know what it is,” she answered. “Normally, yeah, I’d push it, but we’re in a Daedric realm and I don’t know what the conc-”

He interrupted her by slamming his hand down on it roughly. The light left the prison of the tendrils, dropped down seemingly into the tentacle it sat on, and the gate ahead of them opened.

He gave her a smug look. “See? Just fuckin’ do it. Don’t think too hard about shit, I don’t wanna be stuck here.”

She stuck her tongue out at his back as he headed through the gate.

The path before them led to another book standing open on an altar of its own. It looked like another Black Book, albeit with no tentacles coming from it. It was covered in strange symbols, and the pages before them appeared to move on their own.

Desil and Thaddir looked at each other, and without hesitating further, touched the pages at the same time. 

Nothing emerged from the book as she was expecting, but the world went dark for a moment, and when the light returned, they were standing in a new area, surrounded by what seemed to be walls crammed with books. They followed the path down a twisting corridor, which opened into a larger room with several openings. 

Desil hesitated, looking up at Thaddir. “Which one should we take?”

“How the fuck should I know?” he asked with a shrug. “I thought you said you’ve been here before.”

“I mean… yeah, but not, like,  _ here _ here.” She bit her lip. “I… kind of figured it was all the same place. I didn’t realize that it would be different.”

Thaddir let out a loud groan and scrubbed his face with one giant hand, lingering on his chin to bring his lip down dramatically. “Well, fuck. Let’s go middle. We can always come back if it’s a dead end. Although it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier if you knew where the fuck we were…”

She chose to ignore that as they slogged forward through the ankle deep pile of pages on the floor.

The passage opened up to another open chamber, occupied by creatures not unlike the ones Desil had seen surrounding Miraak the first time she had been in Apocrypha. Thaddir had pushed ahead, but she grabbed him by the back of his armour and pulled him back. He looked down at her, she pointed at one, then the other, and they both nodded, somehow understanding without words.

She went for one of the creatures, while he went for the other, and they made short work of them. They seemed to almost dissolve once they were hit enough. 

Clapping his hands together as though he were brushing them off, Thaddir asked, “what in the name of Dagon were those?”

“I don’t know,” Desil answered, peering around for any others. “They were with Miraak when I came here last. They might be monsters that he controls, or Hermeaus Mora… I’m not sure.”

He looked down at the pile on the floor that had once been a creature and grimaced. They pressed on.

Their path was long, winding, and full of more creatures, including one twice the size of Thaddir that took a lot out of them both to bring down. At one point, they had to double back, going through multiple books just for one door to open at a time. One of the hallways, too, stretched out as they went, giving Desil motion sickness. Along the way, there were grotesque chests with good loot, and little treasures scattered about that Thaddir greedily pilfered, leaving nothing but scraps for Desil to stuff in her own bag.

Eventually, though, their path led them to another altar that held a Black Book with the same markings on the cover as the one she had opened. Sighing in relief after fending off the attacks of the latest monster, she moved forward to approach it, only to be grabbed by Thaddir.

She looked up at him, and he was looking back at her with a sour look on his face. Lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed. She felt uncomfortable. It was a look that she could only describe as evil, though she didn’t know why she couldn’t think of another word for it.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“No, everything's not alright, you fucking idiot,” he answered. His tone sent a shiver down her spine. She could tell instantly that she was not going to like whatever happened next. “You’re really stupid, you know that? You could have made this so easy for yourself. And what do you do? You call me out here, trying to make me look like a fool.”

“I’m not… what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, elf,” he sneered, releasing his grip on her arm and pushing her forward. She stumbled, struggled to regain her balance from the force of the push. “I know your little game. You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you? Well, I can’t have you blabbing my secret around. You already said too much to Serana. So now-” he pulled out his terrifying looking battle axe, “-you have to die.”

Desil, too afraid to move and more confused than ever, squawked in fear. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Thaddir swung his axe, just as Desil remembered how to move. She hopped out of the way, narrowly missing the axe and avoiding being knocked off the platform. He readied it again, swung, and she dodged it a second time. “Stand still!”

“Why would I stand still when you’re swinging an axe at me?!” Another miss. “What is your problem?!”

Thaddir was now panting with effort. “The faster you die, the faster I can get the fuck out of here!”

She tried to reach for her bow, but one of his hits finally landed, hitting her arm. While it didn’t injure her much, her bow went flying, down off the platform and into the inky black water, snatched up by an emerging tentacle. 

“Fuck!” she cried, but she didn’t have much time to mourn the loss of her beloved weapon as Thaddir swung the axe down on her again. She spun out of the way and all she got was the air displaced around the blade. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Thaddir said, red faced and panting. “Why am I wasting time with this?”

Before she could react, or even think of what to say, he pushed her again, harder this time. She was able to grab the ledge of the platform with one hand, but her grip was loose, having only a split second to reach for it, and he could clearly see that. As she struggled to bring herself back up, he stood over her smugly. 

“I’m gonna get out of this damn book,” he said, holstering his axe. “And I’m gonna tell my wife and your little boyfriend that you tried to kill me. And then I’m gonna burn the book. And you’ll be stuck in here. So, have fun dying, you little fucking pink-eyed creep. Because I’m gonna have fun never having to look at another elf again in my fucking castle.”

Leaving her swinging, desperately trying to get a better hold, she heard him approach the Book to take him back to the mortal realm. 

And with the sounds of him being transported out of Oblivion, she realized that she was completely and utterly alone, dangling over some murderous water, holding on by only three fingers.

*~*

The first hour wasn’t so bad. The second hour was a little tense. But as the third hour trickled by, Teldryn was starting to get annoyed with Serana.

“Will you  _ please _ sit down?” he asked, watching her back back and forth for that felt like the ten thousandth time. “Desil was in there for longer than this the first time she went in. And she was perfectly fine when she came out.”

“I just feel like something’s wrong,” Serana replied, seemingly not noticing the edgy tone of Teldryn’s voice. “Something is happening in there, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s not good.”

“You think they’re getting hurt?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry.” Teldryn crossed his arms, leaned back on the Dwemer structure he had sat in front of after getting bored standing around. “They can both take care of themselves.”

“You’re not even a little worried?” Serana stopped her pacing, turned to look at him with apprehension clouding her face. “I know Thaddir can take care of himself, but Desil seems so… vulnerable.”

She couldn’t see it, but he grinned, unable to help it. “She is more capable than you think, sera.”

More capable than she was when he met her, anyway. She came to Solsthiem as an undoubtedly skilled archer, but until he got involved, she was utterly useless at anything else. Now, at least, she would stand a chance armed with his old sword.

It had been a slow process, teaching her anything other than the very basics of one handed combat, but Teldryn Sero was never one to back down from a challenge. Quite the contrary. Any other teacher would surely tire of her after one hour, but it had been over a month now, and he quite enjoyed helping her learn. 

Mostly because he quite enjoyed her.

The obnoxious Bosmer had undoubtedly wormed her way into his heart by now, as much as he hated to admit that someone could do such a thing at his age. While irritating, she was charming, and, of course, exactly his type. Small, but deadly. She was like an open book to his closed one, and he found he rather liked that.

But he hardly had any time to think of that, as the Black Book flew open once more. He scrambled up, joining Serana to crowd it.

But only Thaddir came out.

Panting, he was ejected from the Book and landed only a few feet from it. Much better than the first time Desil had come out of it. She had been launched clear across the room by some unseen force between the pages of the Book.

“Kill it,” Thaddir said, his voice broken and afraid, pointing at the Book. “Burn it!” 

Serana rushed to his side. “What happened?”

“She tried to kill me!” he spat. “That sneaky fucking elf tried to kill me! Tried to feed me to the fucking daedra! Make sure that the Book is gone!”

“Where is she now?” Teldryn asked sharply. Thaddir looked at him as though he didn’t even know who he was. “Desil. Where is Desil?”

A dark, ominous smile spread over Thaddir’s face. “Well, she’s dead, of course. I couldn’t let her get away with trying to kill the Dragonborn.”

Teldryn was floored by this admission. He looked to Serana. Her arms had been around the Dragonborn for a moment, but she withdrew them as though she was burned.

“You… you killed her?”

Teldryn didn’t wait around for the reply. He stalked off, knowing that he himself would kill the Dragonborn with his bare hands if he didn’t get away fast enough. 

His thoughts turned dark, to the image of Desil,  _ his _ Desil, lying cold on the ground in Apocrypha, alone and lifeless. He didn’t even know what Apocrypha looked like, but he imagined it was not the nicest place for her to spend her last moments, especially with an asshole like Thaddir as the last person she saw.

It hurt.

It hurt that he wasn’t there to protect her, as he had all the other times she walked right into something dangerous. Hurt that the Dragonborn was able to come out of the Book unscathed, but not her. Hurt that the Nord was  _ clearly _ lying about the reason things happened, though Teldryn had no idea why.

It was now his turn to pace around aimlessly, the sounds of Serana and Thaddir trying to destroy the Black Book fading in and out as he got closer and further away from them. Eventually, they gave up, unsuccessful, and left. 

The sun began to set behind the looming shadow of the Red Mountain, and he sat beside the Book, not entirely sure why. It brought him comfort, even with the evil presence that permanently shrouded the book.

It was pitch black out when it began to shake. It burst open, and through a burst of green, ethereal light, the wood-brown hand of Desil emerged, all but clawing her way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know he's an asshole and all, but I love Thaddir, okay? There's just something really fun about a shitty vampire saying fuck every time he opens his mouth.
> 
> Find me over on [Tumblr!](https://wonder-tweeks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
